A Time for Romance
by AnneM.Oliver
Summary: She didn't have time for his antics or lies. She didn't have time to bicker and fight. She didn't have time to stare into his silver eyes and dream of what might someday be. Really, she didn't have time for silly things like love & romance. Dramione.
1. One o'clock pm

**_All characters and canon situations belong to JK Rowling and I make no money from the writing or publishing of this story. Thanks!_**

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**A Time for Romance**

**By**

**Anne M**

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**Chapter One: One O'clock and Someone is Late**

"I really don't have time for this!" Hermione complained, rushing along with Michael Corner down the long corridor of the private museum where she had been curator for over two years. "You know the new president of the board of governors is due here any moment to interview me!"

"I know," Michael offered, "but I really didn't know whom else to ask. I'm at the end of my rope here, Hermione. The little girl is still crying, she's locked herself in the bathroom, and she won't come out, and I didn't think you wanted this kind of problem today of all days, either."

Hermione turned the corner; her face turned toward the good looking man with whom she had worked with for over a year, but had known for most of her life, and said, "I only hope this won't take long! My interview is at one o'clock sharp!"

She was still peering over her shoulder, speaking to Michael, so she wasn't paying attention to where she was going and therefore, fate being a fickle beast, she ran smack dab into someone, knocking them both to the floor.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Sir," she hurried, her legs out in front of her, her hands on his arms.

"Goodness, watch where you're going, won't you," the man said at the same time. Hermione was sitting on her bum, legs out in front of her, hands on the forearm of the man with whom she had collided. His hands went to her arms as well. It was almost as if they were embracing on the floor. He looked at her legs first, decided they were above average, looked at her skirt, hiked up as it was above her knees, and then at her waist, (small), breasts (just right) and her hair, (big as ever).

"Granger, I might have known," he said when he zeroed in on her face.

She sighed. "Draco Malfoy. Get your grubby paws off me," she huffed, removing her hands from his arms, and then brushing them together, as if she was trying to remove dirt from them. His hands were still on her forearms.

"Get yours off me, then," he announced.

She looked at him as if he was insane, said, "I removed mine, idiot!" She gave him a slight push and he was forced to let go of her arms. She brushed off her arms, just as she had her hands, and then said, "Oh, I hope I don't have any of your germs on me."

"Hilarious, Granger," he deadpanned. He struggled to stand. Michael offered Hermione a hand, but her black skirt was a bit tight, and riding a bit high as she sat on the ground, and she really didn't see how she was going to get up unless she hiked it up more, which would be unwise.

She tried to turn to her knees, but before she knew it, Draco Malfoy was behind her and he placed a hand under each armpit and he hoisted her steadily to her feet.

"Thank you, Malfoy," she murmured low, brushing dirt from her skirt. He reached over and brushed his hand across her backside twice. She turned quickly and hit his arm hard. "Don't do that!"

"You had dirt on your skirt!" he declared. However, he leaned against the side of the wall and folded his arms in front of him. He gave her a mischievous grin and she slapped his arm again. "Ow! What was that one for?"

"For being an idiot, as previously stated. What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I don't have time to chit chat, Granger," he proclaimed. "I have to get a kid out of the bathroom. She's stuck in there."

"That's what I'm doing, too. How's it any of your concern?" she asked. She continued toward the woman's bathroom, with Draco and Michael on her tail.

"How's it any of yours?" he asked back.

"I'm curator here," she answered. "My assistant curator, and the museum's director, Michael Corner, I'm sure you remember him from school, came to get me." She walked up to the bathroom and asked Michael, "Is this the bathroom?"

He nodded. He looked at Draco and said, "How have you been, Malfoy?"

"Who are you again?" Draco asked, feigning ignorance, just to be annoying.

Hermione frowned and answered before Michael could. "For goodness sakes, Malfoy. He went to school with us. You've known him since you were eleven years old."

"Sorry, he doesn't seem familiar," Draco lied. "Wish I could say the same for you," he said toward Hermione. She gave him another scowl. He leaned against the side of the bathroom door and said, "How do you plan to get her out?"

"How are you involved in this?" she asked once more. She knelt in front of the door and tried to look in the peep hole. She couldn't see a thing. She stood back up, took out her wand, said a simple spell, smiled, tried the door handle, and it still wouldn't open. She looked stumped.

"I already tried that, Granger," he said, with a roll of his eyes. He looked at Michael and said, "Does she think I didn't already try that?" Looking back at Hermione he said, "You have to hurry. I'm going to be late. I have a very important meeting at one o'clock."

"Well so do I!" she retorted. She pushed him hard, for no other reason than that he was there, and she felt like doing it. "Tell me again why you're here!"

"That kid in there belongs to me!" he explained. He placed both hands against the door of the bathroom and yelled, "And she's being a spoiled brat and I think I'll paddle her bum when she gets out of there! Do you hear that! I'm going to paddle your ungrateful behind!"

"You, Draco Malfoy, have the sensitivity of a swine," Hermione declared. She pushed him away from the door and said, "What's her name?"

"Gretchen," Draco said with a sigh.

"How old is she?"

"How the hell would I know?" Draco spat.

Hermione looked from Draco to Michael, and then to the small crowd that had formed, and said softly, "You don't know how old your own child is? You really are an idiot, aren't you? I didn't mean it before, but I do now."

He glared at her, mumbled something about if she wasn't a woman what he would do to her, and then said, "She's not my kid, as in fruit of my loins. She's my goddaughter, and I brought her to this stupid museum, because for some insane reason she likes this sort of thing, and then something happened, I don't know what, and she started to scream bloody murder, and she ran in here, locked the door, and I want to know what you're going to do about it!"

"What are you going to do about it?" she asked back. "It sounds more like a personal problem. It doesn't sound like a problem for the museum!"

"Except, Granger, darling," he began, pointing his finger at her chest, very hard, "she…was…fine…and…dandy…" he poked her with each word until she grabbed his finger and held it in her hand. He continued, removing his finger," Until we went into one of your little exhibitions, and then suddenly, she began to scream, and cry, and all hell broke loose! It has to be your fault. I'll sue, that's what I'll do."

"Oh, go cry to your mother," Hermione replied. She pushed Draco again, this time because he was standing in front of her, a bit too close, and she went back down on her knees in front of the door. "Gretchen, are you in there, sweetheart? My name is Hermione. May I come in and talk to you?"

"Don't pretend to be a nice person to her, when you aren't!" Draco barked.

Hermione stood back up, pointed her finger at him, and hit his chest with her finger each time she said, "I…am…a…nice…person…Draco…Malfoy!"

He rubbed his chest where she had just poked it seven times and said, "Bloody hell, you are. Get out of the way."

She was back on her knees, but with a swat of his hand, he pushed her over, where she landed on her bum again, and he took out his wand. "Gretchen Maureen Nott, if you don't get your bony little arse out here right now, I'll smash this door to smithereens, I will! This is total bollocks!"

Hermione reached up, took his wand right from his hand and shoved it under the door. He looked shocked. She stayed on the floor and said, "Gretchen, darling, that was your stupid, Uncle Draco's wand, so now you know he can't do a darn thing to you. Let me in. I promise I'll help you. Whatever happened, I'll understand. It's hard having someone like Draco as a godfather. Is that what's wrong?" She looked up at Draco and smiled.

He gave her a dirty look and was about to pull her wand out of her hand when the door to the bathroom opened slowly. Hermione was still on the floor. She spied a pretty little girl, with long dark hair and dark eyes, staring down at her. She said, "You can come in, but he can't."

"Smart girl," Hermione said. She struggled to try to stand again, darn her tight skirt. She had worn it today because she had a very important interview and she wanted to look good. Now, after being pushed around on the floor, she was going to look a mess.

She got to her knees, but before she could maneuver to a standing position, Draco once again reached behind her and placed his hands under her arms and he pulled her up. She wasn't expecting it this time and she fell backwards into him.

She looked up at him, her head on his shoulder. His hands had moved from under her arms to her shoulders. He steadied her without saying a word. She quickly looked back toward the door and said a small, "thank you," even as he said, "no problem."

He reached over to brush at the back of her skirt again, but she had already rushed into the bathroom and had shut the door.

Michael noticed and gave Draco a strange look. Draco gave Michael a two finger salute and said, "Sod off, she had another speck of dirt on her skirt."

"Right. You were merely helping her maintain her attire. You weren't trying to feel her up," Michael said with a laugh. He leaned against the wall and waited. Draco leaned against the door and tried to listen.

Inside the small public restroom, the only female restroom on the third floor of the small museum, Hermione greeting Gretchen with a smile and a shake of her hand. "Hello, Gretchen. My name's Hermione Granger. How do you do?"

The little girl shrugged, but shook Hermione's hand.

"How old are you?" Hermione asked.

"Eleven," she answered.

"Are you going to Hogwarts this fall?" Hermione asked. She sat on the vanity and smiled down at the girl. The little girl tried to join her, but had trouble getting up. Hermione jumped down, helped her up, and then jumped back up herself.

"Yes, I'm going in the fall," she finally answered. "I've heard about you, you know. You helped Harry Potter defeat the Dark Lord."

"That's right," Hermione said with a smile. "Do you like my museum?"

"It's your museum?" she inquired.

"In the sense that I run it, though I don't own it," Hermione explained. "I'm the curator. I come up with what exhibitions that we want to show and when, and I have to raise money for the exhibitions. I have a director, Michael Corner, who takes care of managing the people, but I'm the boss around here." She smiled proudly. She was proud of this little museum. Two years ago, when she took over, it was close to closing and losing money as if it were bleeding green. Now, it was successful and actually making money. Of course, it had also just been sold, and it had a new board of governors and the new president of the board was also the new owner, and he was meeting with Hermione at one o'clock to discuss her job. In other words, she was interviewing all over again for her own job.

And it was ten minutes to one.

She smiled at the little girl and said, "I went to school with your father, Theodore Nott. I'm afraid I don't know who your mother is, though."

The girl looked sad and said, "She left when I was a little girl."

Hermione thought she was STILL a little girl, but she nodded. "Oh, I'm sorry. What are you doing here with Draco Malfoy today? He's horrible, isn't he?" Hermione made a funny face when she said that and laughed.

Gretchen laughed too and said, "He's normally very nice. He spends a lot of time with me anymore, because my daddy is very busy, but he doesn't understand some things."

"Like what happened today?" Hermione asked.

The girl nodded.

"And what did happen today? Can you tell me? I won't tell a soul if you don't want me to, and believe me, even if you think it's embarrassing, I'd wager that it's not. I've done so many embarrassing things in my life I can't begin to tell you," Hermione said with another laugh.

The girl smiled again and asked, "Tell me just one."

"One?" Hermione said slowly. "I'm not sure I could narrow it down to just one. Okay, I've got one. One time Harry Potter, our friend Ron Weasley, and I made illegal polyjuice potion, when we were only kids, and I accidentally got the hair of a cat instead of a person." Hermione smiled widely and said, "Do you know what happened then?"

The girl looked shocked, placed a hand over her mouth, and said, "You didn't turn into a cat, did you?"

"I was still mostly a girl, but I was also partly a cat, and I had to show myself to my friends, and I was mortified!" Hermione laughed remembering that. "And that's one of many. Please, tell me what happened to you today."

"You won't tell Draco, or my Daddy, will you?" she asked.

Hermione jumped down from the vanity, stood before the little girl, and said, "I honestly can't promise that, but I do promise that if I have to tell them, I'll make sure they're sensitive to you, and they aren't angry. Tell me."

"Draco and I were on the ground floor, in the botanical garden area, in the butterfly room," she began. She covered her face. Hermione took her hands down from her face to beg her to continue. "Anyway, Draco was sitting on a bench, and I had a butterfly land on my hand, and I backed toward the bench, not wanting to jar the butterfly, so it wouldn't move."

"Go on," Hermione urged.

"I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, and I backed up and I sat down where I thought Draco was, to show him the butterfly on my finger. I sat down and I asked him if he thought it was pretty."

Hermione could only assume what tactless thing Draco must have said to the little girl to get her so upset. She was thinking of all kind of ways to hit and push him again, when the little girl said the rest of her story in one long rush… "So I sat down, and I missed the bench, and sat on his lap, and turned around, and it wasn't Draco! It was a boy! A boy I know from my school! A boy I have a crush on! And I sat on his lap! I'm so embarrassed! And he looked so embarrassed, too, and but all he said was, 'Yes, Gretchen, it's a beautiful butterfly,' and I remained there on his lap, and I didn't know what to do, and then Draco walked by and said, 'Oi, little bugger, hands off the merchandise. She's not for sale.' And I threw up my hands, started to cry, and I ran to the bathroom up here and locked the door! What must Jarrod think of me?"

"Is that his name?" Hermione asked.

Gretchen nodded.

Hermione smiled. "Well, since he didn't say anything mean or crass to you when you first sat down, I think he probably was a bit shocked too, but not disgusted at all. He might be a bit embarrassed, but I think the next time you see him you should play it off, make Draco out to be the buffoon. Say something along the lines of, 'Gee, wasn't my godfather an idiot that day at the museum?' and don't even mention that you accidentally sat on his lap. Or, tell him the complete truth. That usually works the best, though for the record, I've found that blaming Draco Malfoy for things has worked really well in my life."

Gretchen hugged Hermione around the waist. "Thank you, Hermione."

"You're welcome. Hey, what does Jarrod look like because there was a cute ginger haired boy standing outside the bathroom a while ago, and he looked concerned?"

Gretchen sucked in a breath. "That's him!"

"Well, there you go!" Hermione said with a smile. "If he's waiting around to make sure you're okay, he doesn't even care about the fact that you sat on his lap accidentally. Definitely, go out there, tell him the whole truth, but still turn it around somehow to blame Draco for something. That's my advice."

Gretchen unlocked the door with her wand. Hermione gave her a funny look and said, "Um…underage magic is frowned on, you know?"

"My father is the director for the misuse of underage magic at the Ministry," Gretchen said, chagrined. "I think I'll be okay."

"Ah," Hermione said, "It's good to know people." She hugged the little girl, who hugged her back, around the waist. Draco opened the door just as Hermione was kissing the top of Gretchen's dark head.

"Is everything kosher in here?" Draco asked.

Gretchen let go of Hermione's waist and said, "Yes, Hermione's really nice, and she helped me a lot, and it's your entire fault, Uncle Draco." She skipped out of the bathroom and toward the red-headed boy who stood against the other wall.

Draco stood inside the woman's bathroom, pointed toward the closed door and said, "What happened?"

"You're an insensitive git, that's what happened," Hermione said, though she smiled.

"Yes, yes, but that's neither here nor there. What happened to the ankle-biter? Why did she go all ballistic on me? Her shrill would give you a run for your money. And what was all that about it being my fault?" Draco approached her slowly, his hands on his hips, his stare menacing.

Hermione looked at her watch and declared, "Oh, goodness, Malfoy, no time to explain! I'm going to be terribly late! I had a very important meeting with the new president of the board of governors of the museum fifteen minutes ago!" She pushed him again, not because he was in the way, but because she felt like it, and started to run down the hall.

She grabbed Michael's hand and said, "Come on, Corner, I'm late!"

Draco leaned out the woman's bathroom and watched her leave. He wiggled his eyebrows. She looked really nice running away in that very tight skirt. A woman walked up to the bathroom, saw Draco in the doorway and Draco looked at her and said, "You need the loo?" He walked out of the bathroom and started slowly down the hallway, taking his time, not caring at all if he was suddenly late for his meeting.

After all, his meeting was with Hermione Granger. She was going to be so upset; she might even push him again. He kind of liked that aggressive side of her. He liked it a lot, almost as much as he liked her tight skirt.

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_**Coming Up: Two O'clock and it's time for a Broken Toe**_

"_Stop touching things on the desk," she warned. "You're going to get us both in trouble!"_

_Since everything in here belonged to him now, he could touch whatever he wanted, though she didn't know that. He picked up a glass paperweight, threw it in the air, and purposely let it fall between his fingers so that it would fall to the floor. He did it to rattle her, rankle her, and upset her. He never meant for it to hit her on her foot._

_Tears sprung to her eyes. She lifted her foot, hopping up and down on her good foot; her injured foot in the air, she placed one hand on his shoulder. She said, "Ouch, Malfoy that hurt very badly! Are you trying to maim me?"_

"_No," he said, wincing right along with her, because he could tell she was in pain. "I was trying to upset you. Didn't mean to break your toe." He pushed her, hard, so that she fell backwards into her empty seat. He reached for her calf, (what a lovely calf it was) and moved his hand slowly down to her foot. He removed her shoe, slowly, both hands still on her long, pretty leg. Damn, what should he do now? He wanted to make a pass at her, but it was apparent that she had a broken toe._

"_Fancy a jaunt to St. Mungo's?" he asked._

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A/N: I decided to start another story. This one will have one chapter for each hour on the clock, so just a shorter story, kind of like my Christmas story this year. I will update my "Wizard of Oz" story tomorrow, and I just posted a Lucius/Hermione story that at this moment is only on 'Malfoy Manor' and 'Pure Arrogance' sites, so you can visit my author's profile for the link to those sites if you want to read it. I'm still working on my own story, but I need to keep doing some Dramione, too. I miss it. Thanks!


	2. Two o'clock pm

**all characters belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 2: Two O'clock and it's time for a Broken Toe:**

Out of breath, Hermione reached the large office at the end of the hallway on the top floor, turned the handle, and ran inside, with Michael Corner right behind her. The room was once a conference room, used only four times a year for meetings with the staff and the former board of directors, but since there were smaller meeting rooms on the main floor of the museum for weekly meetings, this room was mostly ignored.

That was, until the new owner bought the place, and then everything changed. Six months ago the current board of governors informed Hermione and her staff that the museum could no longer function on private donations and from the money it made from admissions on its special exhibits, therefore, an unknown benefactor was found, who mainly wanted to buy the building as a 'tax write-off'. Hermione was assured that no one would lose their jobs, that nothing would change, and everything could go on as before. She was told that she would still make all final decisions, and that the new boss was merely a figure head. The only difference was that there would now be private funding for the museum.

Then, two months ago, a man entered the building early one Monday morning, gave Hermione his card, and he told her that he was there to decorate the new owner's office. Hermione informed the prat that since the museum previously operated under the regime of a governing board and private donations, there was no office available for the new owner, only the large conference room where they held their quarterly meetings, but that he couldn't possible want to use that for his office!

The man told Hermione that she could always give up her office. Hermione pasted on a fake smile and showed the man the way to the large conference room. Entering it today, for the first time in two months, she was awestruck. The place was magnificent! It was opulent, with bold, rich, dark wood, a black leather chair behind a large, impressive mahogany desk, colourful Oriental carpeting, eighteenth century tapestries along with modern artwork on the walls, along with floor to ceiling bookshelves, full of books, thank you! Hermione was steeped in jealousy.

She walked in slowly and began to roam around the room. Michael, right behind her, said, "Whoa! Look at this place. It must have cost a fortune. This guy must be loaded. This room is nicer than most of the rest of the museum"

Hermione turned to face her friend and said, "You know what this means, don't you?"

"That this guy must be loaded and that this is nicer than the rest of the museum?" he repeated.

"No, well, yes, but look at this office! This man must mean to be here all the time. Someone doesn't put this much effort and cost into an office if they only intend to be here occasionally. This museum isn't a tax shelter for him, or a play thing. He won't be merely a figure head! Look at the art work on the walls! Look at the books! All those lovely books! He means to work here!"

"Okay," Michael said slowly. "So?"

Hermione sat down in one of the high-backed, plush, red velvet, wingback chairs in front of the massive mahogany desk and said, "That means he won't need me as curator. He'll be doing all the duties I used to do! Don't you see, that's why he wants to interview me for my job again, so he can pull the rug out from under me, the beautiful, colourful Oriental rug, and tell me to vamoose!"

He laughed and said, "At least the rug he pulls out will be a nice one. Look at these rugs, Hermione." Michael got down on his knees by her chair, and place one of his hands into the high-piled, plush rug. "I think these are antiques themselves. They're worth a fortune!"

She sighed and he placed the hand that was on the rug on her knee. She placed a hand in his hair. He said, "You know, this might not be an interview. You're the one who keeps insisting that it is. The letter merely said he wanted to meet with us today, you first, then me and then the rest of the staff. Maybe he merely wants to say hello, and give us all a raise!" He smiled.

Draco stood in the doorway of his new office and he frowned. Michael Corner, the stupid wanker, whom he certainly did remember from school and whom he never liked, had his hand on the bare knee of Hermione Granger, and she had her hand in his hair, rubbing it for cripes sakes! What sort of debauchery went on in this museum in place of work, and could Draco Malfoy be a party to it?

Hermione placed her hands on Michael's cheeks and kissed his forehead. She said, "You always try very hard to make me see the positive, and I love you for it. You're probably right, this probably isn't an interview, but a meet and greet."

Michael leaned over and kissed her cheek and said, "Exactly, and I love you too, love."

Draco wanted to vomit. Surely they didn't 'LOVE' love each other, right? And why did they have to keep kissing? It was appalling. He walked the rest of the way into the room and said, "Am I late for my interview? I'm supposed to meet the new owner here to interview for the curator job." Yes, he was trying to worry her, and yes he was being mean, but perhaps if he made her angry she would stop kissing Michael Corner.

Hermione looked over her shoulder at Draco, opened her mouth in shock, looked back at Michael and almost screamed, "I told you it was for an interview, and I have competition, and it's Draco Malfoy!" She stood up, walked over to Draco and pushed him again, harder than she had earlier. He almost stumbled and fell.

"What the hell, Granger!" he barked as he caught himself against the wall. "Push your git of a boyfriend there, not me. I didn't lie to you and tell you it wasn't an interview, he did." He pointed at Michael and then said, "And by the way, what are you doing here, do you have an interview at one o'clock?"

Michael stood up from his place on the floor, looked at his watch and said, "It's after one-thirty and no, my appointment isn't until two."

"Then scram," Draco ordered. He pushed Michael out of the door. Hermione continued to glare at Draco, her arms crossed, as he closed and then even locked the door.

"Why are you locking the door? Don't lock the door! The new boss won't be able to enter if you lock the door, and I for one, don't want him to think I locked it. I don't want to get on his bad side." She started over to the door, mumbling, "Why would we have interviews for the same time?" and when she reached the door, he was right behind her. Hermione flipped the lock to the unlock position, but Draco flipped it right back, his hand coming down on top of hers.

She pulled her hand from his, turned and said, "I swear if you don't leave this door alone, I'll push you again."

"Bring it on, Sweetheart. I love S & M."

"You're despicable!" she huffed.

"And yet you're the one who keeps pushing me. What does that make you?" he asked. He took out his wand, locked the door securely, and placed his wand back in his pocket. He started walking around his new office. He hadn't seen it until this moment. He began to pick up things, examining them closely.

She was right behind him. "Don't touch anything," she begged. He picked up a tall, glass vase that was on a credenza along the wall and she took it right out of his hands and put it back. He turned to look at her, leaned against the sideboard, crossed his arms in front of him and smiled.

"Why are you smiling?" she asked. Her hands were nervously clenched in front of her. She began to pull at them. He looked at her and laughed.

"You're one bundle of nerves!" he stated.

"So?" she spat. "This is important to me, Malfoy! My job and reputation rides on this interview, and why would you be interviewed for the curator job? Don't you own your own company now?"

"Keeping tabs on me?" he asked. He pushed away from the credenza and went to sit behind the desk. He propped his feet up on top.

She gasped. "Draco Malfoy, remove your feet!" She walked over to him and removed first one leg and then the other from the top of the desk "And of course I'm not keeping tabs on you. We live in a small world, and everyone knows about everyone else."

She looked over at the locked door, down at her watch, and then said, "Will you please, please, unlock the door?"

He smiled again. He took his wand, pointed it at the door, but then just to mess with her mind he pointed it toward a painting by the door and said, "That painting it appalling." One swish of his wand and the painting was facing the other way.

"OH!" she huffed. "You make me so angry!" She took out her wand and pointed it toward the painting. He stood up behind her and removed her wand right from her hand. She turned, pushed him, (it was getting old to her, but he liked it) he landed in the chair, and she said, "I don't need my wand, idiot!"

She walked over to the door, unlocked it first, and then she reached up to turn the painting around. It was a bit too high. She reached up, on tiptoes, and he cocked his head to the side to watch. Her tight black skirt was riding up and he could see more of her delectable legs this way. He might have to turn all the paintings around!

She had a nice round bottom, heart shaped in that tight skirt. Her waist was thin, and he could just imagine those legs wrapped around him in the throes of passion. If she was this passionate about her job, what must she be like in the bedroom?

"Did you hear me?" she asked. She snapped her fingers in front of his face.

He was leaning against the edge of the desk, and he shook his head and said, "No, not a word."

"I said, give me my wand, or you will have to turn this back around. I'm not tall enough," she repeated.

"Really, you said all of that? I didn't hear a word of it," he repeated, with a dopey smile.

"How could you not hear me?" She put her hands on her hips and tapped her toe on the floor.

Should he tell her? He stood and said, "I was admiring your luscious, heart shaped bottom, your trim waist, and your long, beautiful legs, and I was wondering what sex with you would be like." He smiled.

She threw back her hand and slapped him across the face.

His hand went to his cheek and he said, "Well, now that I heard. I think I would prefer that you go back to pushing me. Slapping hurts a lot more. I should know, since you've slapped me twice in my life now."

She huffed in anger. She was angry at him, but also at herself. How could she let him push all her buttons this way? She wasn't usually so violent. He brought out the worst side of her. He always had. She thought about apologizing to him as she pulled one of the wingback chairs from in front of the desk to the wall.

"Sorry I resorted to violence, but you really deserved it, you know," she said quickly. She kicked off her shoes, and climbed to the seat. She straightened the painting. When she turned to hop down, a very angry Draco Malfoy was standing right by the chair.

He took her arm, which surprised and jarred her. She slipped from the chair, her arms flailed in the air, almost in slow motion, and before she could think of what to do next, she grasped his shoulders and landed into him, causing him to fall backwards. They both landed on the ground, him grunting, her moaning, him on bottom, her on top, one of his hands around her waist, one holding her previously admired backside, her hands on each side of his head on the floor.

They stayed immobile for a moment. Sprawled awkwardly across him, her chest on his chest, her legs tangled strangely with his, they were almost nose to nose. Hermione couldn't remember the last time a man felt so good underneath her. He held her so tightly, so intimately, that all the muscles in her belly and below clenched and a quiver of pleasure went through her like a wildfire.

He was mesmerized, and truthfully, though her knee was pressing into a tender spot that was getting harder by the moment, he never wanted to let her go. He blinked a few times, kept his arms around her, and then had the forethought to ask, "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Do you accept my apology?" she asked.

"I think so," he said slowly. He moved her slightly to the left. Ahhh…that felt better.

"Will you let me go so I can get up?" she begged.

"Now that one I don't think I can do," he said seriously. If she got up now, he would have a very embarrassing problem.

"What?" she asked. What did he mean by that? She frowned, and pushed against his chest. He uncoiled his arms and she rolled off him. She stood up quickly, didn't offer him a hand or another apology, moved the chair back to its place in front of the desk, and looked around for her shoes. Then she looked down at her skirt. It was ripped, right up the side. She said, "This skirt is ruined. I look a mess."

"You look like you just had sex," he mumbled softly. She looked up at him quickly, a frown on her face. He backtracked and said, "I said that you look like you just fell off a chair."

"Right," she agreed, bending down to pick up one of her shoes. "This will never do. I'm a mess. I might as well go home."

He cursed aloud. He didn't want her leave.

She held her shoe in her hand and said, "Pardon?"

"I was cursing at that painting, Granger, not at you," he covered. He straightened his tie, and buttoned his jacket so that she couldn't see the evidence of his arousal. She looked at him closely, and then to his surprise, or chagrin, she dropped her shoe and reached up and began to help him straighten his clothing. He stood still while she smoothed out his jacket and his tie. When her hand touched his chest he thought he might melt under her touch.

"What are you doing?" he asked. He removed her hand from his tie and held it in his.

"Just because I look all rumpled and untidy is no reason why you should look bad for the interview," she explained. "Why ruin your chance for the job, just because my chance is ruined?" She gave his jacket collar a final flick, said, "Good as new," and then looked around for her shoes again. She found the one she had just dropped, but she still couldn't find the left one.

He sat back against the desk again, marveling at her attitude. She always was a little 'do gooder' even if she did like to push him around. Leave it to her to be the bigger person and try to make him look good for the new boss…wait…the new boss was him.

She gave up looking for the other shoe, placed the other in her hand on her foot, and said to Draco, "Good luck with the job, if the chap ever shows up for the interview that is. Tell him I'll try to reschedule, although, I don't know why. I'm sure I'm toast, as far as this job goes."

He walked over toward the door, spied her shoe and handed it to her. She placed her hand on his arm to steady herself while she slipped the other shoe on her foot. He almost smiled at the warmth he felt from such an innocent touch. Almost. He walked back over to the desk, leaned once more against it and picked up a large inkwell with a cork stopper and he tossed it from hand to hand. "I never thought you would be one to give up, Granger. What a coward you are!"

"I'm not giving up!" she yelped, turning back toward him. "But my skirt is torn, almost shockingly obscene, and even with two shoes now, my blouse is rumpled, my hair is probably a mess, and the man is late anyway, which means he has no respect for me, so why should I wait around for him?"

"First, I see no difference in your hair," he said, throwing the inkwell slightly into the air this time, instead of merely tossing it to the other hand. He caught it easily. "Second, good riddance to you. I always knew your courage routine was an act. Give up! I'll get the job then." He threw the inkwell slightly higher and narrowly missed catching it this time. He placed it back on the desk.

"Stop touching things on the desk," she warned. "You're going to get us both in trouble!"

Since everything in here belonged to him now, he could touch whatever he wanted, though she didn't know that. He picked up a glass paperweight, threw it in the air, and purposely let it fall between his fingers so that it would fall to the floor. He did it to rattle her, rankle her, and upset her. He never meant for it to hit her on her foot.

Tears sprung to her eyes. She lifted her foot, hopping up and down on her good foot; her injured foot in the air, she placed one hand on his shoulder. She said, "Ouch, Malfoy that hurt very badly! Are you trying to maim me?"

"No," he said, wincing right along with her, because he could tell she was in pain. "I was trying to upset you. Didn't mean to break your toe." He pushed her, hard, so that she fell backwards into her empty seat. He reached for her calf, (what a lovely calf it was) and moved his hand slowly down to her foot. He removed her shoe, slowly, both hands still on her long, pretty leg. Damn, what should he do now? He wanted to make a pass at her, but it was apparent that she had a broken toe.

"Fancy a jaunt to St. Mungo's?" he asked. He looked up at her face and saw that she was biting back tears. She was really hurt. Her eyes looked so pretty when they were full of tears. What a silly thing for him to think, but he thought it all the same. He stood up, and then bent at the waist and picked her up in his arms, leaving her no choice.

"What are you doing?" she asked. This time, her voice was without ire or airs. She didn't sound angry, only sad and resolute. She relaxed against him, pressing her upper body against his chest, as her arms went around his neck.

He was suddenly filled with a vision, a vision of his future. A future of her and him together, forever. But then again, what was forever? An immeasurable amount of time, without end. Time was something he couldn't buy, and that he never seemed to have enough of, though for her, he would make time. It was time to romance Hermione Granger.

She moved slightly in his arms and asked him again what he was doing. Goodness, if she felt this good in his arms, while fully clothed, what might she feel like against him totally naked? He knew one thing; he was going to find out.

She heard him answer her by repeating that he was taking her to St. Mungo's. She hardly cared. Her job was over. Her dream job. But again, at this moment, in his arms, she wasn't sure she cared. All she cared about was the feel of his strong arms around her back and bum. The way he looked at her with those icy-silver eyes. The way his hair kept falling across his forehead. She wanted to sweep it back with one hand, and then kiss his forehead, and make it all better, and yet she was the one that was hurt, and it was even his fault!

Michael walked into the room and said, "It's two o'clock. Time for my interview. What are you two still doing here? Wait, why are you holding Hermione in your arms?"

Draco looked at Corner and said, "I'm taking her to St. Mungo's. By the way, meet your head curator, Hermione Granger, and your new boss and the new owner of this place, Draco Malfoy." Draco still had her in his arms, but he moved her slightly, nodding his head as he spoke to Michael.

"What?" Michael and Hermione said at the same time.

"I'm the new owner, and I'm keeping all the staff as it is," he said, looking only at Michael as he did so. "Spread the news to the rest of the staff, won't you, Corner?" He walked out of the office, went straight to the Floo at the end of the hall, but before he entered, he looked at Hermione and asked, "Are you pleasantly surprised?" He wanted to laugh, because she looked as if she was about to spit nails.

She answered, "Let's put it this way, as soon as I'm able to stand again, I'm going to push you so hard that I'll probably knock you into next week!"

"Oh, but I do love this new side of you, Granger," he said with a laugh. He hoisted her up higher in his arms, went into the Floo and said, "St. Mungo's if you please."

* * *

_Coming up: Three o'clock and it's time for St. Mungo's_

"_Take your pain potion and shut up," Draco said. He had heard enough of her insults to last a lifetime._

"_Don't tell me to shut up!" she barked. "And I told you," she began, pushing the brown vial with the potion away from her, spilling some on the table, "I don't need it. I told you, my toe isn't even in pain. The only pain I'm having is a pain in my arse called Draco Malfoy!"_

"_Compliments like that are what I live for, Darling," he mocked. "Why be so brave and courageous? Just take the bloody potion!" He pushed the potion closer to her._

"_NO!" she pushed it away again._

_He took her hand in his and said, "If you touch that potion again, I won't be responsible."_

"_For what?" she shouted._

"_This!" He pulled her from her chair all the way over to his, so that she was awkwardly on his lap. He held her hand tightly in his, her palm facing him, and he lowered his head, while raising their joined hands. Her eyes were wide in shock. Then, he placed a kiss right in the middle of her hand. For the first time in her whole life, Hermione Granger was speechless._

* * *

**_a/n: Don't forget that the seconding phase of the Dramione Awards is almost over. You don't have to have a livejournal account to second, but you can't do it anonymously either. I'll post the links on my Author's page. Here are the categories in which I am nominated:_**

**L3. Days of Wine and Roses - Best Mid-length (25,001-75,000 words)**

1. All I Want for Christmas is You by Anne M. Oliver

**L5. The Best is Yet to Come - Best WIP/Incomplete Tale**

1. A Marriage Most Convenient [M] by Anne M. Oliver

**G4. Come Fly with Me - Best Action/Adventure**

1. A Kind and Generous Man [M] by Anne M. Oliver

**G6. Strangers in the Night - Best Mystery**

1. A Day and A Night [M] by Anne M. Oliver

**G8. Young at Heart - Best G, PG, or PG-13 Fic**

1. All I Want for Christmas is You by Anne M. Oliver

**C2. The Boys' Night Out - Best Draco**

1. All I Want for Christmas is You by Anne M. Oliver


	3. Three o'clock pm

**all characters belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 3: Three o'clock and it's time for St. Mungo's**

Arms folded, grimace in place, foot propped up on a chair in front of her, and in a lobby full of hurt and sick patrons, Hermione Granger sat without preamble at St. Mungo's Hospital. To say that she was not a happy woman would have been an understatement. She was miserable and it was all Draco Malfoy's fault! Yes, she totally blamed him for everything.

The last two hours had been a nightmare. First, she was minding her own business, getting ready for what she had assumed would be one of the most important meetings of her life, when she was thrown for a loop by a little girl locked in the bathroom.

Why was the little girl locked in the bathroom? Because of Draco Malfoy! _Therefore, she blamed Draco Malfoy for everything!_

Then she ran all the way to the top floor of the museum, again, assuming she was late for her 'important meeting', and she found out that her previously important meeting was really a 'pointless meeting' with none other than the very same person who made her late: Draco Malfoy! _Again, she blamed Draco Malfoy for everything!_

She was late for her meeting with Draco because of Draco's insensitivity to a little girl, and her meeting was pointless because it was with Draco. It boggled even her massive mind! The only thing that didn't confound her was one very important point:_ she blamed Draco Malfoy for everything!_

Last, but hardly least, _he_ broke her toe! He dropped a large, glass sphere on her foot; caused her pain, and then he carried her here to St. Mungo's. Once more, she could directly blame Draco Malfoy for both breaking her toe and for causing her undue embarrassment by carrying her here!

Draco carried her here! Carried! In his arms! All the way down the hallway of the museum, in front of her coworkers and the patrons of the museum, through the Floo, to St. Mungo's. She was fairly sure he even copped a feel! He sat her down in a chair, told her to behave, (as if she was a five year old child, or a cocker spaniel) and then he even had the gall to pat her on the head before he pulled a chair over, placed her injured foot upon it, and then continued to walk away.

Where he was now was anyone's guess. She looked around the packed intake lobby at the wizarding hospital and she cringed. The place was unusually busy. She was probably going to be here all day. There was a banquet tonight to honour the new owner of the museum and she was probably going to miss it because Draco Malfoy dumped her here in this lobby and left her! Of course, now that she knew the banquet was to honour him, she no longer cared to attend. _Who should she blame? Draco Malfoy._

Earlier, when Hermione told that sweet little girl, Gretchen, that it was her philosophy in life to blame everything and anything bad that happened on Draco Malfoy she was joking, but now she really felt it was an edict that she would live by for the rest of her life.

Her foot hurt. She was filling out unnecessary paperwork, (why did they need her middle name?) and what was more, some poor man with an eyeball hanging half out of his head was staring at her…with his good eye. She shivered. She felt this had happened before.

A healer in green robes walked over to her and said, "Are you my patient?" She looked up, somewhat confused, glanced around the crowded lobby, but then nodded. The man smiled. "Let's get you into a room and have your toe looked at, Mrs. Malfoy."

Hermione was aware that several people who were here before her turned to stare at her. Even the man who had one eyeball hanging out, and could only stare at her with the remaining one, stared at her. Hermione said, "I'm pretty sure all these people were here before I was. I think the man with one eye might still be waiting to be seen from the last time I came to St. Mungo's. Please, take one of them first."

"That's alright, someone will see to them soon," he said. He motioned to an orderly with his head. The other man levitated the chair she was sitting in off the floor and began to move it down the hall. The healer followed beside it and said, "I'm your husband's private healer."

"Wait a minute," she said, looking around for Malfoy, "did you say, 'my husband'? Oh goodness, you did. You called me Mrs. Malfoy earlier and because I'm still in shock over the events of the last two hours, my mind only just now processed that unflattering assumption. There's been a dreadful mistake."

The man smiled, patted her hand as she floated in the air beside him and told the orderly, "Put Mrs. Malfoy right there."

"I'm not Mrs. Malfoy!" she barked.

Draco was sitting in the room waiting for her. He patted the gurney and said, "Please place my wife right here."

"Your what?" She glared from Draco back to the orderly who was physically lifting her from the chair to place her on the gurney. Draco stood directly behind her.

"I'll be right back, Mr. Malfoy," the healer explained to Draco. He walked out of the little room behind the orderly.

Hermione pulled on Draco's sleeve to force him to stand beside her, instead of behind her, and she said, "Do you want to explain to me why that man is under the presumption that we're married?"

"Gladly," he spouted. "You see, there was a brawl at a Quidditch match tonight, some people are so barbaric, don't you know, and as you may have been able to tell, the intake area is full. If you had to wait for an average public servant, nobody healer to wait on you, you would have sprouted roots out there, your wait would have been that long."

"OH MY STARS!" she exclaimed. "Get on with it! Why does that man think you're my husband!"

He smiled. She was so passionate when she was irritable. It was how he remembered her being in school. Not passionate, really, but highly and frequently irritable. He wanted to kiss her just now, how insane was that? Instead he finished his story. "As I was trying to say before you so rudely interrupted me, when we first arrived, I told them to get my personal healer in here for my employee who hurt her toe, and they contacted him, but he said he wouldn't come for my mere employee, so I lied and said you were my wife, and he came, and now here we are."

He held out his hands, to imply, 'ta-da' and then shook his finger at her. "And don't you dare go and tell them the truth and make a liar out of me!"

"But you are a liar!" she pointed out.

"So? Lying has made me what I am today," he said proudly.

"And what is that? A Liar?" She sighed. "Draco, there are people out there who were here before me, and some of them are seriously hurt! One man had only one eye! One eye! It was ghastly! His other eye wasn't completely gone, but it was merely hanging there, being all disgusting!"

Draco made a funny face and said, "Yes I saw him, and I agree he was indeed disgusting. I think he might have been here the last time I came." He sat on the gurney next to her long, beautiful leg, and looked at her swollen, black and blue toe. It was hard to have lurid thoughts about her legs when her toe was bruised and broken.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, reaching out to touch the top of her foot.

She jerked from his touch. "Yes, but let's not change the subject. I shouldn't get special treatment. It's not right."

He waved his hand in her face. "Oh, what would you know about right and wrong? All you've ever done is right, so you have no way to gage the degrees of wrongness," he argued.

Her mouth opened in shock and she said, "Your theories on right and wrong boggle my mind! Perhaps you're so used to being evil and wrong that it's just seems right to you, but believe me, lying is still frowned upon by most people. You lied to get me in here quicker."

"And that's the truth," he mocked. "I shalln't argue morals with you right now." He frowned. "My propensity for being a practiced liar was used for good this time instead of evil, and this is the thanks I get."

She saw his point. She didn't particularly want to wait hours in the lobby, her toe was turning black, and she did have to host the banquet for the ungrateful git tonight, so she finally said, "Fine. Thank you. However, I wouldn't think the wife of Draco Malfoy would have to wait so long. Where is that damn healer?"

Almost an hour later, he took her back to her office. He offered to help her home, but she insisted that she still had work to do before the banquet tonight. The healer gave her two potions after he healed the small fracture in her big toe. One was a minor form of 'skeletal-grow' and one was for pain. She had always hated taking medicine, ever since she was young. She hated the taste, and the way it made her feel. She agreed to take the one to mend the toe, but not the pain medicine.

Draco pocketed the pain medicine right before they left.

She managed fine without being carried this time, with the aid of a cane and the wizarding equivalent of a cast, which she would only have to wear for a few hours. Draco followed her to her office. He walked in right behind her and she asked, "What are you doing in here?"

He ignored her rudeness and looked around. The office was small, but tidy. She had books everywhere, not that, that surprised him very much. She had many personal belongings around the office. He picked up a picture on her desk and then placed it high on a shelf on the wall, face down. It was of her and the two idiots commonly known as her best friends. He didn't see a picture of a 'significant other'.

She sat in one of two chairs that flanked a round, oak, work table, pulled out a file and asked again, "Draco was there some reason you came in here with me?"

"I own this place now, you know," he stated the obvious. "It might behoove you to be nice to me." Draco watched as she kicked off her good shoe and accio a small step stool toward her for her foot. Her leg was slender and she had beautiful ankles. He never recalled finding women's ankles attractive before, and he especially never recalled thinking anything about Hermione Granger was attractive, but he couldn't help his errant thoughts. Today was a day of surprises for both of them. She was surprised that he was her new boss, and he was surprised at how fetching she had become since school ended.

He sat in the chair next to her, picked up a file, and began to read it. She could hardly tell him to stop, since as he said, 'he owned the place' now, and the file was about a recent exhibition she had hoped to bring to the museum. It was a collection of rare artifacts that were from the Hogwart's Founder's era.

He leaned back and continued to read. She turned to him slightly, and under lowered lashes she stared at him for the first time today. She really looked at him. He was lean, with slight muscles, and his body looked long and relaxed in the chair next to her. He reminded her of a cat of some type. She had always thought that, because he seemed agile, and lithe, and she imagined that he might have a wicked tongue that was slightly rough. She smiled at that last thought.

His hair was longer than he used to wear it in school, slightly over his ears, a bit long in the front. She watched the way his eyes flickered over the page. He had absolutely beautiful eyes. The colour was like silver.

She felt a strange attraction to him that made her outwardly wince. Ugh! She did not have a crush on him, did she? How could she have a crush on someone whom she intended to blame for every bad thing that happened for the rest of her life?

He glanced at her when she moaned, threw the report on the table and said, "What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

She expelled a long breath. Hell yes she was in pain. Her pain was with herself because SHE DID HAVE A CRUSH ON DRACO MALFOY! _And whose fault was it that she had a crush on Draco Malfoy? HA! Draco Malfoy's fault_!

Finally, she said, "I don't feel well. I may not be up to hosting the banquet tonight. I hope you understand." If she wanted to be honest, the task she wasn't up to facing was being this close to him a second longer! She felt as if she wanted to sink into his side, place her weary head on his chest, and confide in him all her problems, and tell him what a rotten day she had, because of him!

Draco narrowed his gaze and took her pain potion from his pocket. He held it out to her and said, "If you're in pain, take this. I brought it with us, but you simply have to come to the banquet tonight. The new board of governors will be there, and it won't bode well for the museum if the curator isn't there."

"Even if it's the fault of the owner and new president that she won't be there?" she bemoaned. Let him think she meant because of her foot.

"Listen, Granger, I'm a little bit sorry for what happened, but it can't be erased, and if you truly value your job, you'll take this potion and shut up." He meant every word. He dropped the vial in her lap.

She looked indignant, as only she could look, and she threw the small, brown vial back at him and said, "A bit sorry? You're a bit sorry? No, you're not sorry. Don't lie to me, even though it is what you seem to do best, furthermore, how dare you threaten to fire me because you broke my toe! You know, you really should have told me you bought this place Malfoy."

"What difference would it have made?" He tossed the vial back in her lap. He knew that if he had told her, she would have quit, and for some reason, he didn't want her to do that then, and he didn't want her to do it now.

"It would have made a big difference, because this is my whole life, and I might not want you in it!" She threw the vial back at him. It bounced off his chest and landed in his lap. He picked it up and squeezed it hard.

"Well, excuse me for messing up your life! That's all I ever live for, is to mess up your life, and the life of others! Isn't that what you all think?" he accused.

She rubbed her face with her hands and said, "Frankly, yes. When I told your goddaughter that it was my philosophy to blame every bad thing that's ever happened in my life on you, I meant it."

"You told Gretchen what?" he shouted. "Why in the hell would you say that to a child? I know you and Potter always acted like you thought that, but I still can't believe you would tell my own goddaughter, the flesh and blood of my best friend, that! That's unconscionable, Granger, but then again, you think only the worst of me, and you always have!" He took her hand, held it tightly in his own, opened her fingers with his other hand, and deposited the pain medicine in her palm.

The feel of his hand on hers made her stomach lurch, in a good way, which she thought was bad. She placed her foot on the ground and pulled herself to the edge of her chair. With her hands on the table she said, "I'm going home. I'm in pain, and I think I quit." She placed the vial of medicine on the table in front of their chairs.

He took the blasted vial of potion, removed the stopper, and threw the cork across the room. "Sit down, take your pain potion, and shut up," Draco said. He had heard enough of her insults to last a lifetime.

"Don't tell me to shut up!" she barked. "And I told you," she began, pushing the brown vial with the potion away from her, spilling some on the table, "I don't need it. I told you, my toe isn't even in pain. The only pain I'm having is a pain in my arse called Draco Malfoy!"

"Compliments like that are what I live for, Darling," he mocked. "Why be so brave and courageous? Just take the bloody potion!" He pushed the potion closer to her.

"NO!" she pushed it away again.

He took her hand in his and said, "If you touch that potion again, I won't be responsible."

"For what?" she shouted.

"This!" He pulled her from her chair all the way over to his, so that she was awkwardly on his lap. He held her hand tightly in his, her palm facing him, and he lowered his head, while raising their joined hands. Her eyes were wide in shock. Then, he placed a kiss right in the middle of her hand. For the first time in her whole life, Hermione Granger was speechless.

Hermione gasped. Just when she needed to keep her wits about her, her 'wits' were elsewhere, because she desperately wanted him to kiss her lips, not just her hand. While she considered that wayward thought, he placed the vial of medicine back in her hand.

She decided not to push her luck. She opened her mouth, tipped back the vial, and drank it all in one drink. "There!" she shouted.

Now he gasped. He took the vial from her hand and said, "Why did you do that, you crazy witch? That was enough medicine for the whole night! You were only to take a teaspoon!"

"Well, you didn't tell me that did you? You pulled me over to your lap, and practically forced me to take the whole thing!"

"Oh, Granger, seriously, what did you do?" Draco shook his head. He reached up and touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers.

Shivering under his touch, she said softly from his lap, "May I get off your lap now?"

He looked at her tenderly. "Hell, Granger, if you die from an overdose, you'll blame me for that, too." He smiled tenderly at her. Merlin, she was so pretty.

She cringed slightly. "Please, let me up."

"Why?" he asked slyly. He rather liked her on his lap.

"Ah, Draco, I think you might really want to let me get off your lap," she urged.

He smiled wider and leaned closer to her. His nose skimmed her cheek and nuzzled her hair. She smelled so good, like honey and wine. "I asked you why should I? I like you here."

"Because, I think I'm going to be sick," she said quickly.

* * *

_Coming up at four o'clock:_

"_That's the nice woman who helped me earlier, Daddy," Gretchen said to her father._

_The good looking man with the sandy blonde hair grinned, looked down at her as she lay on the floor, and declared, "Well, I remember you. Hello, Hermione Granger. What happened to you? Why are you on the floor? Are you drunk?"_

_She looked up from her place on the floor and said, "Oh, geesh, this is embarrassing. I'm not usually on the floor in the middle of the day."_

"_But today's special, right?" he joked._

"_No, today's been one of the worst days of my life. You see, I blame Draco Malfoy for all of this," she explained._

_He laughed and said, "That's been my philosophy in life as well."_

_Gretchen looked down at Hermione, her hair falling over her features like a curtain, and she said, "You and Daddy have that in common, Hermione. You both blame Draco for everything! You should ask Daddy to be your date for the banquet tonight."_

_Hermione looked up at the pair and stammered, "I, well, you see, I, um, well."_

"_What she's so ineloquently is trying to say, people, is that she already has a date for the bloody banquet! And she's on the floor because I dropped her, though it was completely an accident!" Draco protested from the doorway. _


	4. Four o'clock pm

__

_A/N: Sorry it took so long to update, but I've been ill. Hey, you get a long chapter though, so that should make up for it!_

* * *

**all characters belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 4: Four o'clock and It's time for Jealousy:**

Hermione felt overwhelmed. Draco had pulled her over to his lap, for some odd reason, and she didn't protest. She should have, but she had just been fantasying about how nice it would be to sink into his side and have his arms around her, and then he did this, so she was caught off guard. Therefore, she decided not to push her luck. She decided to stay where she was, take the bloody pain potion he kept trying to press upon her, and give into the subtle little feelings of joy (and pain) that Draco Malfoy was providing.

She opened her mouth, tipped back the vial, and drank the potion all in one drink. "There!" she shouted.

He gasped, took the vial from her hand and said, "Why did you do that, you crazy witch? That was enough medicine for the whole night! You were only to take a teaspoon!"

"Well, you didn't tell me that did you? You pulled me over to your lap, and practically forced me to take the whole thing!" She wanted to add the fact that he was so handsome, and sexy, and that all rational thought went out of her brain the moment he touched her, but she would never admit to that.

"Oh, Granger, seriously, what did you do?" Draco shook his head. She was so pretty, but for a smart woman, she acted like a loon. He reached up and touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers.

Shivering under his touch, she said softly from his lap, "May I get off your lap now?" She was beyond embarrassed; in addition, she was beginning to feel a bit woozy.

He looked at her tenderly. "Hell, Granger, if you die from an overdose, you'll blame me for that, too." He smiled tenderly at her. Merlin, she was so pretty. When did she become pretty? Was she always pretty?

She cringed slightly. "Please, let me up."

"Why?" he asked slyly. He rather liked her on his lap.

"Ah, Draco, I think you might really want to let me get off your lap," she urged. If he didn't let her up immediately, she was going to throw up all over him!

He smiled wider and leaned closer to her. His nose skimmed her cheek and nuzzled her hair. She smelled so good, like honey and wine. He was going to kiss her! She was under the influence of pain medicine, she was on his lap, and he was going to take advantage of both situations and kiss her. He smiled at her, his most charming, if not devious smile, and asked, "I asked you why should I? I like you here."

"Because, I think I'm going to be sick," she said quickly.

"Define sick," he said, wearily, holding her slightly away from him.

Instead of saying a word, she gave him a pleading look and tried to get off his lap. She couldn't define sick, but she knew any second she was going to give him a physical demonstration! She pushed at his chest and shoulders with her hands. Draco stood, Hermione in his arms, and he practically ran around the table, to the middle of her office.

"What do I do?" he asked frantically.

"Put me down!" She needed a rubbish bin, something, or anything. He too, looked around for a rubbish bin. He started to place her on top of her desk when the unthinkable happened. Hermione Granger vomited right on Draco Malfoy. Not a profuse amount, mostly just the potion she had just taken. Still, it was repulsive for him and embarrassing for her.

She placed her hands over her mouth and mumbled, "I'm sorry."

Thinking he was placing her on the desk, and feeling totally appalled, he removed his arms from around her, dropping her. His arms went out (still in disgust), he looked down at his suit jacket and shirt front, uttered every profanity he knew, stepped away, and in that quick moment she slipped out of his arms, instead of landing on the desk, she landed with a thump on the floor.

She moaned. She lay flat on her back, covered her face with her hands and said, "Help me. Please, someone, just kill me now before I die from embarrassment or before Draco Malfoy kills me."

"Gladly," Draco said, looking at the state of his jacket and shirt. Then he looked down at the floor, finally realizing that he had dropped her completely on the floor. He felt stunned, and equally embarrassed. "Merlin, Granger, I do apologize!" He bent to help her up but she batted his hands away.

"Go clean up, Draco. I'm fine, on the floor, in pain, and full of embarrassment. I think I'll pray that the floor swallows me whole now." She rubbed the back of her head, tried to sit up, but then quickly lay back down. "If only the room would stop spinning, too, that would be great."

"I'll be right back, Granger. I do need to clean up a bit more than just with a wand. Also, you still look a bit green. Stay on the floor." He pointed his wand at her first, said a quick cleaning spell at her blouse, (though most of the regurgitated potion seemed to have landed on him) held up one hand to say goodbye and ran out of the door.

"No problems there. I can't move if I try," she whispered to herself after he ran out of the office. She was truly mortified. This had been a terrible, horrific day, and it wasn't even remotely over! She had ripped her favourite skirt, and though she had repaired it with magic, it would never be the same. She had broken her toe. She had lost her freedom here at work, because now she had to answer to Draco Malfoy. She had also lost her lunch, so to speak, ON Draco Malfoy! She moaned a little and willed herself not to cry.

Draco rushed to the bathroom off his office, cleaned up with magic and good old-fashioned soap and water, threw his jacket in the trash, and started out of the toilet, when he faltered. He stopped in the middle of his new office and groaned. Things were not going very well. True, he had no real expectations when he came here today, but still, he never expected things to go quite as badly as they had.

He bought this place on a whim. He had heard that it was floundering; he knew Granger was at the helm, and he was tired of dating empty headed slags, so he thought Granger would be a nice diversion. Therefore, he bought the museum. True, to some, that might seem a bit extreme, but Draco always did things rashly. It was part of his charm.

He was told by some acquaintances that she was busy all the time, and that she never had time to date. Draco felt all he had on his hands was time. He didn't need to work because he had so much money, plus he didn't have anything he enjoyed doing, so he thought he would buy this place, have a place to go everyday, spend some time with her, and convince her to spend some time with him. Also, he figured he could get her to go to bed with him.

It wasn't a well thought out plan. He didn't have any true long term goals. He merely remembered her from school, remembered how much fun he had tormenting her, he knew she had turned out decent looking, and he was tired of being bored. He thought it would be a bit of a challenge to get her into bed. All in all, he thought his plan was well worth his time and effort. He still did. He knew she might not think that at this point, but it would be his job to convince her.

Still, when he saw her again, and was reminded how prickly and irritable she was, he decided that he would have more fun teasing and tormenting her than trying to get her into bed. Now, he found he wanted to do both. What was up with that?

And why did he keep abusing her? Goodness, he had knocked her on her arse, at least twice, knocked her off a chair, broke her toe, forced her to take an overdose of pain potion, and then he literally dropped her on her arse – her pretty, little, heart-shaped arse.

At this rate, she would be dead by the end of the day, at his hand, and he would never know what it was like to kiss her. No wonder her philosophy in life was to blame everything bad on him. Now he understood why.

Squaring his shoulders, he started back down to her office. He would apologize for dropping her, offer to take her home, help her into some comfortable clothes so she could take a nap (perhaps she slept in the nude?) and then he would pick her up later for the banquet. After the banquet, perhaps she would go home with him, he could kiss her or…well, best leave it at kissing for the time being. She didn't seem like the type to roll around on a bed on the first date, so he would chuck that plan for the time being.

No, she was more the 'roll around on the floor' type. He laughed at his perverted humour. Seriously, he hoped he hadn't hurt her too awfully bad. If she had landed on her head, there would be no worries, as it was hard as a rock, and her hair would have cushioned the fall.

He laughed again, and then censured himself. He wouldn't make fun of her anymore today, at least, not until she was in the same room with him and could hear how witty he was being.

Hermione tried to get up twice, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. Her foot hurt too much, along with her pride. Also, her head was still spinning. She would stay put until Michael stopped by for tea at four o'clock, which he did daily. Then, she would have him pick her up, take her away from here, where she could die of mortification in the peace and quiet of her own home. She only had to wait a few minutes, because it was almost four o'clock now.

There was a knock at her door. Thank goodness, Michael was early. She looked toward the door, from her place on the floor, and said, "Please, come in!"

The little girl from early walked into the room along with a handsome man from Hermione's past. It was Theo Notts. She had gone to school with him. He was one of Draco Malfoy's best friends, Gretchen's father, a former Slytherin, and one of the last people she possibly wanted to see when she was in this position! Goodness, could this day get any worse?

"That's the nice woman who helped me earlier, Daddy," Gretchen said to her father as they walked into Hermione's office.

The good looking man with the sandy blonde hair grinned and said, "Hello, Hermione Granger. What happened to you?"

She looked up from her place on the floor and said, "Oh, geesh, this is embarrassing. I'm not usually on the floor in the middle of the day."

"But today's special, right?" he joked.

"No, today's been one of the worst days of my life. You see, I blame Draco Malfoy for all of this," she explained.

He laughed and said, "That's been my philosophy in life as well."

Gretchen looked down at Hermione, her hair falling over her features like a curtain, and she said, "You and Daddy have that in common, Hermione. You should ask him to be your date for the banquet tonight."

Hermione looked up at the pair and stammered, "I, well, you see, I, um, well."

"What she's so ineloquently is trying to say, people, is that she already has a date for the bloody banquet! And she's on the floor because I dropped her, though it was completely an accident!" Draco protested from the doorway.

Hermione looked up and said, "He also knocked me off a chair, broke my toe with a large glass paperweight, and made me take an overdose of medicine today, too. I threw up on him in retaliation though, so no worries." She tried to smile.

Gretchen made a funny face and looked at Draco. "Yuck!"

Theo laughed. "Are you trying to kill her? I know that was your goal when you were younger, but I didn't know you still wanted her dead."

"I don't want her dead any longer," Draco said condescendingly to the father, turned to the daughter and said, "And she only threw up a tiny bit of pain potion, after I forced her to take an overdose. I cleaned it all up after I dropped her on the floor."

"You are trying to kill her!" Theo said, still laughing.

He shouldered past Theo, added, "About time you showed up to collect your daughter. I was about to call children's services on you."

"Says the man who left my daughter alone for an hour," Theo grumbled. "She said that some bloke from the museum watched her while you left her all alone."

Draco got down on his knees by Hermione, placed a hand across her waist, to her hip, which she found strangely endearing, and somewhat possessive. "Sod off, Nott Senior. I had to take Granger to hospital. Excuse my language, Nott Junior." He looked down at Hermione and said, "I need to get you home now. How do you feel?" His thumb rubbed slightly back and forth at her waist. She felt more lightheaded by the minute. She didn't know if it was from the pain medicine or his touch.

Before she could answer, Michael Corner walked in the room, looked around and asked, "Are we having a party in here, and no one invited me?" He placed his hand on Gretchen's shoulder and said, "Thank goodness little Gretchen and I became fast friends while Malfoy and Hermione were at St. Mungo's. She helped me with a tour this afternoon."

"Who are you?" Theo asked.

Hermione didn't want to make the proper introductions from her place at their feet, and besides, she knew they remembered each other. "I would introduce you, but surely you remember Michael Corner from school, Theo. He was in Ravenclaw. He was in our year. Draco acted as if he didn't remember him either."

Michael laughed as he knelt beside Hermione and Draco. Draco explained, ''He remembers Michael Corner, just as I did. It's merely a time honoured practice of all former Slytherins to act as if they don't remember former Gryffindors, to question whether or not they remembered the pompous Ravenclaws, like Corner, and to honestly forget the Hufflepuffs. It's the principle of the thing."

"But you aren't like that with me," she whined. Draco smiled at her. No…he remembered her. Who could forget her? She looked up at Theo and said, "And you said my name as soon as you came in the room, so you remembered me."

"I make an exception for pretty Gryffindors who are on the floor at my feet," Theo said with a smile. "Shall I help you up, or are you seriously hurt? Do you need to go back to St. Mungo's?"

"NO!" Draco and Hermione shouted together. Hermione couldn't stand the thought of spending one more minute at that place. She definitely didn't have time for such luxuries, and Draco shouted 'no' because he couldn't stand the thought of Theo touching Hermione. Strange, that. He felt another strange emotion, right up there with old 'empathy', but this one he was familiar with, only not in regards to Granger. This one was called, 'jealousy'.

Draco placed one arm under her back, another under her legs, and he stood up, pushing Michael out of the way. No one was touching her but him. Michael was forced to stand as well. "You seriously don't weigh hardly a thing," Draco observed. He turned, Hermione in his arms, to face the room. He said, "And I'll make the introductions. Corner, Nott, Nott, Corner. There. Now, everyone leave."

Theo looked Michael up and down and said, "Humph, I seriously don't think I remember you." He turned to Hermione, who was in Draco's arms, and said, "And surely I didn't hear Malfoy correctly, early. You can't have a date to the banquet. I refuse to listen to such nonsense." He smiled to his daughter and added, "Gretchen's right, you should go to the banquet with me."

Draco held Hermione tighter and glared at his friend.

Hermione sighed and said, "I think I need to have some tea and biscuits, to ward off the effects of the potion, and not worry about the banquet. I might not even go now. Michael?" She stared at her friend, pleading with him to intervene.

Michael held out his hand toward Theo, who merely stared at it. Michael dropped it and said, "Fine, don't shake my hand, but I know you remember me, Nott. We were both prefects in school. And what Hermione is trying to say, and what Draco is trying to say, is that Hermione really does already have a date for tonight. Me." He leaned over, took Hermione from Draco's arms, laughed, said, "You do get yourself into some predicaments, love," and then he carried her away from them all.

Theo looked chagrined.

Gretchen looked sad.

And Draco Malfoy looked angry.

Theo nudged Draco's arm and said, "Look at it this way, Malfoy, you already broke her toe, tried to drug her, and dropped her on the floor. If you had gone out with her, you probably would have killed her before the night was through. Let's go, Gretchen. I still need to find a date for tonight."

"Hold on a moment," Draco said, holding a finger up toward Theo and Gretchen. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

He ran from Hermione's office just as Theo looked at the floor and asked, "Is that vomit on the floor?"

Draco caught up with Michael and Hermione right before they went through the main lobby's Floo. "Stop!"

Hermione's head was tucked in Michael's shoulder. Michael turned and said, "What is it, Malfoy? Hermione told me what happened, and she's still feeling a bit out of sorts. I need to get some food into her, and if she wants to be right as rain in time for the banquet, she needs to go home and rest this foot for a while."

"Are you two dating?" Draco asked.

"Why?" Michael asked back.

Draco wanted to lie and say that he didn't believe in office romances but that would spoil any kind of future he might have with her, not that he wanted a future with her, exactly. He would be content with a 'present'. He shrugged and lied, "It's merely that I had heard that you were gay, Corner."

"So? Do you have a policy against gay people working for you?" Michael asked.

What? Draco couldn't believe his luck! He was right? "No, more power to you and all that. I only wanted to know if you were bi-sexual." UGH! Draco was making things worse.

Hermione looked up from Michael's shoulder and her mouth opened in shock. "Why do you want to know that? Do you like Michael?" she asked Draco.

"WHAT! I can hardly stand the bastard!" Draco shouted. He leaned toward the pair and hissed, "In addition, sweetheart, I'm not gay."

"I'm confused," Hermione said.

Michael smile and said, "I'm not." He could tell Malfoy liked Hermione, even if she was oblivious. He ordered, "Malfoy, hold out your arms."

Draco did, albeit with some confusion. He placed Hermione in Draco's arms and added, "I just remembered that I have to meet with the painters today. We're getting the lobby painted next week. Do you mind taking her home?"

"Not at all," Draco said, smiling at Corner in return. "I left Nott in Hermione's office. Go tell him to sod off, and that I'll see him later at the banquet."

Hermione reached toward Michael as he walked away. How could Michael do this to her? Didn't he know that she was embarrassed to be alone with Draco, because of everything that had happened, and because she wanted to kiss him so badly?

She looked up at his face and he was smiling. Goodness. "Will your wards allow me entrance?" Draco asked.

"Yes," she said, with a stinging tone. He looked down at her face and she was frowning. Charming.

He walked through the Floo and they ended up in a very nice living room in a very nice, old, Victorian house. Draco placed her on the couch.

Then he didn't know what to do.

She was frowning, and she refused to look at him.

This wasn't boding well for a future relationship. She sat with her back against the arm of the sofa, her arms folded in front of her. He reached for a pillow and placed it under her foot. He was torn at what to do next. She sort of needed to change her clothes, and brush her teeth, especially if he was going to kiss her, but he was afraid of suggesting these things to her.

"Ah, Granger, you smell a bit. Perhaps you would like to change your clothes and brush your teeth."

She turned her head farther away from him and made a growling noise. "Leave now!" she barked.

"Listen, tact isn't one of my strong suits," he admitted.

"I'd like to know what is," she asked, her head turned back to him. She moved her feet to the floor and struggled to stand. She wobbled to the staircase and started to limp up the stairs.

"Shall I help you up?"

"NO! You might knock me down the stairs!" She walked up the stairs, went to the bathroom, and cleaned up and changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Oh, and she brushed her teeth. While brushing her teeth, she looked at her reflection in the mirror and cringed. With her toothbrush pointing toward the mirror she said, "I do not have a crush on Draco Malfoy!" She splashed toothpaste all over the mirror, pointing the toothbrush with each word spoken. She spit, rinsed, and then cleaned off the mirror. She hobbled back down the stairs and noticed that Draco had made tea.

He had tea and biscuits, grapes, crackers and cheese on a tray on the coffee table. She limped back down the stairs, but then stopped by the front door.

"Well, thanks for bringing me home, and for making me something to eat. That's nice, and somewhat surprising, but I think you should go now." She closed her eyes and rubbed her eyes with her hands.

He frowned. His plan didn't include him going home. "I think I should stay for a while and make sure you're okay."

She pointed toward the door. "Please go." She pointed toward the Floo next and said, "Or that way. Just go."

He continued to frown. He stood up from the sofa and walked over to her. "What's your problem?"

"What's my problem? WHAT'S MY PROBLEM?" She was becoming hysterical, she knew, but seriously, did he really ask her that question? "YOU ARE MY PROBLEM!"

"That's bloody poor hospitality, Granger," he said seriously.

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out for a full thirty seconds, because she was in shock. Finally, she said, "So is dropping me! So is breaking my toe! So is ripping my skirt, knocking me over, making me late for my interview, even if it was with you! So is buying my museum! It's mine! You're my boss now, and I don't want you to be! I don't want to be attracted to you! I don't want to have a crush on you! I don't have time for this! I don't want to kiss you, but that's all I've thought about for the last hour or so! You disgust me, but I want to kiss you!"

"I seriously don't have time for crushes! I don't have time for romance, or dating, or kissing former enemies! My life is finally in good, working order! It's fine as it is! Please, don't mess it up! I can't have it messed up, not again! I can't stand the thought of being hurt by a man again, and all you've done since I've met you again is hurt me! Maybe you've only hurt me physically, but it's only a matter of time before you break my heart! All men break my heart!"

She felt so defeated. She knew she had revealed more than she had intended, but she didn't care. This day was one large black discomforting mess! It was a stain on her memory, and she felt like sinking into the woodwork at the mere thought of it. She opened the front door and hid partially behind it. From behind the door she said, "Please, Malfoy, go away."

Draco stopped frowning. Hermione looked so sad, so lost, so forlorn, so upset. He used to relish in happiness when she looked all those things, back when they were kids. Now he felt her pain in his own heart. How odd. Was that really empathy? He truly didn't know that emotion really existed until today.

He walked up to her and took the door from her hand. He closed it slowly. She kept her eyes downcast. He stood so close that the warmth of his body caused her to shudder, and she looked up just as his hand came up to her face. Her eyes went to his as his hand hesitantly came up to cup her cheek.

"I never meant to hurt you today. I knew you'd be upset that I bought the museum. I wanted to upset you to a degree, hence the reason I didn't tell you ahead of time, but I only wanted to cause you 'fun' distress, not actual distress. And believe me, all the physical abuse was a total accident. I've never hurt a woman that way, and I will never hurt you again, in any way."

He wanted to tell her that he was sorry, but he felt he had said enough. He also wanted to tell her that he was sorry if any of the wankers from her past had hurt her, but seriously, that wasn't his fault, and it was in the past.

She nodded. She still felt queasy, but she no longer thought it was from the pain medicine. It was probably because he was practically pressed up against her.

Her stomach compressed and all speech left her when his hand moved from her cheek to her neck. His thumb was still on her jaw and he moved it back and forth lightly as his fingers spanned across the width of her neck to feel her pulse. Her breath mingled with his, and it was sensual and it left them both wanting.

She closed her eyes at the moment that he leaned his face forward and his lips hovered ever closer to hers.

* * *

______

_Coming up at five o'clock: __Draco started to put his lips on hers, meaning only to give her a sweet, fleeting, quick kiss, but her head dropped back, hitting the wall with a slight thump and her eyes opened back up. She gave him a lazy look, and that was when he decided to give it all he could. He might never get another chance._

_His __right__ was__ hand still on her neck, __and __his left hand moved down __to rest__ on her waist, bringing her slightly closer. __He moved his hand so it was under her t-shirt, on warm skin. Warm, wonderful, Hermione Granger skin. Tilting her head back, right before he kissed her, sealed her fate._


	5. Five o'clock pm

**Chapter 5: Five o'clock and it's Time for a Kiss**

Draco started to put his lips on hers, meaning only to give her a sweet, fleeting, quick kiss, but her head dropped back, hitting the wall with a slight thump and her eyes opened back up. She gave him a lazy look, and that was when he decided to give it all he could. He might never get another chance.

His right hand was still on her neck, and his left hand moved down to rest on her waist, bringing her slightly closer. He moved his hand so it was under her t-shirt, on warm skin. Warm, wonderful, Hermione Granger skin. Tilting her head back, right before he kissed her, sealed her fate_._

He placed his lips on hers, and it felt divine. Her lips were wet and alluring, and softer than he anticipated. He sucked carelessly on her bottom lip, tugging on it, his tongue quickly touching her still closed mouth, and then it was over. He didn't want to overwhelm her with too much of a good thing too quickly.

She opened her eyes once she could breathe and think again. No words exchanged between the pair. Her eyes still held shock and his held a smug arrogance. He stepped backwards, their stare still on the other. Removing his hands from her body he took a step away from her. She looked as if nothing was holding her against the wall.

"Granger?" He snapped his fingers in front of her face.

A bit concerned now, he leaned forward and snapped his fingers again. "Granger, I just kissed you. The normal reaction when I kiss a woman is for them to smile and ask for more. You seem to be in shock. Did you hit your head too hard before? Are you still drugged?" He took a step backwards. "Oh, please, tell me you're not going to throw up again."

She closed her mouth, pushed him away slightly, though the gesture seemed futile and half-arsed, and she ran up her stairs and out of sight. He didn't hear a door slam and he didn't hear her start to cry. He didn't hear a bloody thing.

What was wrong with this girl?

He scratched the side of his face and closed her front door tight. He walked over to her sofa, had a biscuit and a spot of tea, and then he decided enough was enough and he walked up her stairs to find her.

The first door he encountered looked like a home office…desk, bookshelves, and books everywhere. The next room was a guestroom, though if it didn't have a bed, he would assume it was also an office, since it had bookshelves and books everywhere. The next room had a closed door. He skipped it and went into the last room.

It was her bedroom.

It was a beautiful room, cream and green. Green….hmmm. Did she know that was his favourite colour? Probably not, but still, it was green, and he could take that anyway he wanted. He touched things around her room, pillows, hairbrushes, perfume bottles, books, of course. He opened her closet and a few dresser drawers. She had some lovely lingerie. He felt no guilt about snooping because he was Draco Malfoy and Draco Malfoy never felt guilt and loved to snoop.

He sat on her bed and picked up a Muggle notebook and opened it. It was a journal of sorts. He started to read it, but put it back. Even he didn't sink that low. He wouldn't read her private thoughts, at least, not right now. He probably didn't have enough time.

He stepped back out into the hallway and sat across from the closed door. He assumed it led to a bathroom. He would wait for her.

Inside her bathroom, inside her bathtub, with bubbles all around her, Hermione Granger was confused. Draco Malfoy kissed her. He also almost killed her a few times today, but that was neither here nor there, and she was going to forget that from now on. But that kiss, though it was somewhat chaste and sweet, also blew her socks off, because it was one of the best kisses she had ever received. It was a closed mouth kiss, though his tongue touched her bottom lip, and it lasted no more than ten seconds. Still, she felt it from the top of her nose to tips of her toes and in ever single fiber, pore, and orifice in-between. She sank into the water to rinse the bubbles from her hair and body and sighed.

She stood from the tub and tested her foot to see if it could allow her weight. It was feeling so much better. She got out of the tub with help from her cane, decided not to put the cast back on, dried her body with a big towel, dried her hair quickly with a Muggle hair dryer, and decided to get dressed and ready for the banquet.

She would undoubtedly see Draco Malfoy there, and when she did, she would make a decision at that time what she should do about him. Surely he didn't really like her. Surely he was just trying to irritate her. Surely he wasn't sitting out in her hallway, looking up at her, while she stood in the doorway of her bathroom, totally naked, without even a towel around her body.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!" she screamed. She turned back around, ran into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut.

He stood quickly, his mouth opened in total awe and amazement, and then he smiled a wicked smile and he said, "Wow that was great."

Hermione threw a towel around her and banged on the inside of her bathroom door with both fists. "Draco Malfoy you just saw me naked!"

"Yes I did," he said, still smiling, while leaning against the wall near the other side of the door. His fingers were playing over the wood of the door lightly, almost as if the wood was her skin. "And I must say, Granger, bravo old girl, bravoooo." He extended the 'o' and then laughed. "You are bloody magnificent. I'm in awe. I knew you were beautiful, but I had no clue as to the extent."

She was slightly mollified, but still embarrassed. She leaned against the door and said, "Really? I mean, I'm nothing special, am I?"

"You're joking, right?" he asked.

"No, you are," she decided. She leaned away from the door. "I thought you left."

"I wasn't going to just leave you. I wanted to talk to you. You ran away when I kissed you. I thought perhaps I did it wrong or something," he teased. "You hurt my pride. My sense of sexual awareness went down two whole points when you ran upstairs without a word. Seriously, I wanted to make sure I didn't offend you, and when I figured you went in the loo to take a bath, I wanted to make sure you didn't drown, and Merlin, sweetheart, you didn't drown." He stood in front of the bathroom door, both hands on the wood, forehead on the door, his eyes staring at his feet.

"Are you going to come back out?" he finally asked.

"Not yet," she decided. "Why are you really still here?"

"It's not as complicated as it seems. I told you. Why did you really run away?" he asked through the wooden door.

She thought a moment and replied, "It's more complicated than it seems. I told you, I've been hurt before and I don't want to be hurt again. You see, I've been engaged a few times even, but don't you dare laugh!"

"I wouldn't dream of it, and if you could see me, you would see that I'm crossing my heart out here," he said, and he was. "Hey, define a few times."

Her bottom lip jetted out in a pout and she said, "Never mind. Forget I said that. Leave it with the fact that I've been hurt and I don't want to be hurt again."

"Did my kiss hurt? Goodness, I did do it wrong," he said with a smile.

She smiled back, though he couldn't see it. "Why did you kiss me?"

He snarled. He didn't want to beat a dead horse. "Sod it all and call me Snape, Granger, I told you…I wanted to, alright."

"Why?"

"Oh my stars, Granger! Look in the mirror and then ask that question again," he pleaded. "You've seen yourself naked."

"You wanted to kiss me because you think I'm desirable?" she quizzed.

"Too bloody true," he laughed.

"And because you want me, sexually?" she asked.

"Right you are again, Granger. Give that girl a passing mark," he said with a grin.

Silence ensued. He didn't like that. She opened the door slightly. He was appalled to see that she had a robe on over her previously naked body. She looked out the crack and said, "Will you please leave now, but first, will you accept my two week notice in person. I'll give you the written one tonight at the banquet. Michael will make you a wonderful head curator. He'll find a replacement for himself."

She started to close the bathroom door. Draco pushed on it so that it remained opened; in fact, he pushed on it so that it opened more. "What's wrong? I just told you I find you attractive, and you quit on me? That's rude."

Her shoulders sagged. She hopped up on the long vanity of her bathroom, crossed her legs, made sure her robe was secure around the waist and said, "Draco, I don't want to be desired sexually. As hard as it is for someone like you to understand, I want to be admired for my intellect."

He snorted and snickered.

She frowned. "I do."

"I'm sure you do," he agreed with a grin, "However, Granger, men aren't bloody saints or romance novel heroes. We don't sweep women off their feet and love them for their minds. We aren't sensitive; we don't really care how your day's been. We're simpler than that. We want to fix things for you because we can, not because we want to. For instance, I swept you off your feet earlier to take you to St. Mungos to fix your foot, but I wouldn't have swept you off your feet otherwise, get it?"

"Not really, nor do I want to, because what you're saying is that men don't really care about women's feelings," she complained.

"Exactly," he said, with another grin.

"Get out of my house," she ordered, pointing toward the bathroom door.

He laughed. He also pushed the bathroom door shut, closing him inside with her.

"Why are you shutting the bathroom door?" she asked.

Draco started to unbuckle his belt. "I have to go to the toilet, it's that simple." He unbuttoned his trousers and unzipped the zipper. She froze.

"Do not do that with me in here!" she shouted.

"Then get out," he said.

She ran toward the door, opened it, and exited.

He zipped his pants back up. He didn't really have to go. He merely wanted to get her out of the bathroom. He waited a few moments then went to find her. She was sitting on her bed. She had changed into a pair of jeans and a plain navy t-shirt, no socks or shoes, and he thought that each time he saw her she looked lovelier, with the exception of being naked. That was the best.

He sat beside her on the bed.

"Why are you still here?" she asked.

"We really need to finish this conversation," he begged. "First, I was joking. Men do care about women's feelings, but not to the point of no return, if you understand my meaning. Tell us your wants and desires, what's wrong, what's bothering you about us, the relationship, yourself, but tell us and then move on. Also, don't make us out to be more than we are. We aren't that complicated. We're simple."

She moaned, tugged at her hair, and then whined, "How did this get to be a lecture from Draco Malfoy to Hermione Granger about men?"

"Well, I do have a point, if you would let me get to it," he interjected. "I know you've been hurt, and presumably engaged to half of the wizards in England, and I know you question my motives. You wonder why I kissed you. You wonder why I bought the museum. You wonder why I've ruined your life." He got down on his knees, in front of her.

He took her hands, parted her legs slightly, so that his chest was against the mattress and box springs, and he was looking up into her eyes, while holding her hands. "Here goes…I ruined your life when you were younger because I was a spoiled rotten git who didn't know better and it wasn't personal against you. It was merely the way I was brought up.

"I bought the museum for the reason I stated, because I was bored with my life. I heard it was for sale, and I wanted to buy it, end of story. I heard you ran it, thought it would be a lark to tease you a bit, and I never thought you would take my teasing to heart, or regret it, so please don't quit."

He kissed her right hand on the top. She watched the action with acute interest. He placed that hand back on her thigh and covered it with his left hand. "I kissed you because I find myself incredibly drawn to you, sexually, or if you'd rather tone it down I'll say physically."

He kissed the left hand on her palm, which was much more sexual, or if he'd rather, physical. She tingled all over. He placed that hand on her left thigh and covered it with his right hand. "Is the physical all I want from you, not at all, but Granger, I already know you're one of the smartest women I know. I already know all the little idiosyncrasy that makes you who you are, and I find each one more endearing than the next."

He leaned forward and nuzzled her neck with his nose, moving her hair aside, and then kissing her pulse point. His hands moved up her bare arms as her hands remained on her thighs. His hands moved to her back to urge her closer to the edge of the bed. They slipped under her t-shirt. She was braless. He found that exciting and interesting.

"I didn't set out with an 'I'm going to snag me a Hermione Granger agenda' today, but if I have one now, well, good for me, and believe me, it will be good for you, too. I don't recognize your two week notice because I know the museum is important to you, and I find that I want to make you happy for some odd reason. See, I'm a simple man, as are most men. Making you happy for some odd reason makes me happy, and making me happy is the number one thing in my life," he said with a crooked smile. He nuzzled the other side of her neck, she shivered, and he kissed that pulse point.

Her nipples became erect and he felt their hard points on his shirt covered chest. He wanted to pull her off the bed, down on top of him, or push her on her back, and jump on top of her, but he had abused her enough for one day.

He kissed her jaw from one side to the other, and then looked back into her eyes. "I don't care if you're scared. Get over it. You're effing Hermione Granger and you have no business being scared. I don't care if you don't like me in return. I'm Draco Malfoy, get over it, you have no business not liking me in return. I had no ulterior motive today when I set up the meeting with you but to have a bit of fun at your expense, but things change, people change, you and I have changed, Granger, live with it."

He placed both hands on her cheeks, moved them so that his spread fingers went into her glorious, curly hair, and he placed another kiss on her mouth. This time, he slanted his mouth over hers, moved it with a sort of rhythm, back and forth, pushing and pulling, opening her mouth just a bit at a time. Before long, her mouth was open under his. He let his tongue push inside her lips and the tip of his tongue touched hers. He did no more. He pulled away first. He wouldn't give her the opportunity to be the first to pull away again.

He got up from the floor, (his knees were killing him) and he sat beside her once more. To his extreme surprise she placed her head on his shoulder. She took one of his hands between both of hers and looked at it for a long time. He didn't say a word. He watched her as she looked at his hand. She moved it around, looked at the top, traced the veins and muscles with her fingertips, turned it back so that the palm side was up, and traced the lines with her fingertips.

Then she put it up to her mouth, kissed his open palm, with a slightly open mouth. Her breath was warm, her lips wet, and he thought he might have felt her tongue. If he died right there and then, he would at least die happy.

"I don't believe in happily ever after," she finally said, still possessing his hand, still moving her hands over it, sensually, seductively, protectively.

"Neither do I, so what do you say? I think we give this little romance thing a try, say, at least a day. See if we like what we see and feel," he suggested. He closed his eyes for a moment, and his head went back. Her hands were wonderful and they were only touching his hand.

She looked over at him, dropped his hand, and said, "How about I feed you something, and then we decide from there. The banquet is still hours away, and I never ate lunch, and I didn't get tea. Then, we'll both get ready for the banquet," he smiled and winked, and she stood up and then added, "separately," he smirked, "and you can be my date tonight."

"Sounds like a solid plan to me, Granger my girl." He stood beside her and threw his arm around her shoulders. "You'll soon find out that it takes very little to make me happy. A pretty naked girl, some food, and sex, and I'm a happy man."

They started down the hall, his arm still around her neck, and she said, "Goodness, what have I agreed to do?"

* * *

_Coming up at six o'clock:_

_He lifted his hand to the back of his head, and said, "My hair, Granger. You got sauce in my hair!" He took the cloth from her hand and began to clean his hair. She continued to laugh._

_She was still on the floor, cleaning the spaghetti sauce, and she said, "I'm glad something happened to someone else today, that's all I'm saying."_

"_You caused it to happen!" he spat. He bent down to help her clean the floor._

_She pointed at him and said, "Just like you caused all the other accidents today!" He stood up and she held out her hand so that he could help her up. He got a reprehensible thought. He placed his hand on top of the cake, and then held out his hand. When she placed her hand in his, it smeared hers with icing._

* * *

_A/N: I have to apologize! This chapter came back to me last week. I was ill last week and somehow missed it. Then this week, I've been off work, but busy. Gardening, planting flowers and trees. We've gone hiking a couple of days. I've read the whole new Southern Vampire Mysteries book, 'Dead in the Family' this week. Also, I've written my whole story for the 'Mayhem Challenge' over at Granger Enchanted called, 'A Ranger and a Granger'. It's a crossover with the 'Ranger' character from the 'Stephanie Plum Mysteries' and Hermione Granger, if anyone knows those stories._

_But, the point is, I had this back and didn't post it and totally forgot it. I'm not overly invested in this story. It's a mild lark. It's not getting very much attention. Not very many people are reading and reviewing and so therefore I forgot about it and I am so very, very sorry, because for the people who are reading and reviewing, you deserve better than that. The next chapter went to the beta today. I will post it, I promise, as soon as it gets back to me!_

_Also, the final voting phase of the Livejournal Dramione awards are taking place now that the seconding phase is over. My stories all received seconding and are up for final nominations. Visit my author's page for info and vote for any of the wonderful stories that are up for the awards!_


	6. Six o'clock pm

**Chapter 6: Six o'clock and it's Time for Dinner and Cake**

Hermione Granger thought Draco Malfoy might be certifiably insane. Upon closer inspection, she realized he was also hedonistic, egotistical, self-centered and spoiled. But then again, he had always been those things, so it was no real surprise that he still was. She looked over at him, dropped his hand, and said, "How about I feed you something, and then we decide what we're going to do from there. The banquet is still hours away, and I never ate lunch, and I didn't get tea. Then, we'll both get ready for the banquet," he smiled and winked, and she stood up and then added, "separately," he smirked, "and you can be my date tonight."

"Sounds like a solid plan to me, Granger my girl." He stood beside her and threw his arm around her shoulders. "You'll soon find out that it takes very little to make me happy. A pretty naked girl, some food, and sex, and I'm a happy man."

They started down the hall, his arm still around her neck, and she said, "Goodness, what have I agreed to do?"

Inside she was berating herself. Yep…he definitely was a hedonist, seeking his pleasure and happiness before all other things. She would not be swayed by a pair of pretty grey eyes and a sweet smile. She would not let the fact that a touch of his hand could turn her legs to jelly, her heart to mush, and cause her stomach to do flip flops. NO! She would keep him at arm's length, which absolutely meant NO MORE KISSING!

She decided to tell him so. They had just reached her kitchen when she turned to him and preached, "And for the record, there will definitely be no more kissing. It's not right. You're my boss now, and we've not even gone out on a date. I don't go around just kissing people willy-nilly."

He wanted to make fun of her so badly…especially the 'willy-nilly' part, saying something along the lines of what she did to his 'willy', and what he wanted to do to her 'nilly', but he wouldn't push her too far. She was still Hermione Granger, when all was said and done, and sometimes she scared the shite out of him!

Although the no kissing rule was where he drew the line. He was categorically going to kiss her again and probably within the next hour. She could demand, pretend, and think otherwise, but it would happen.

They entered her large kitchen and she said, "Reach up there and get me that big pot. I think I'll make us spaghetti." He did as told, and she began to boil the water. While he watched, in silence, she set about making a salad, buttering garlic bread, opening a can of sauce, and then finally, when the water was at a rapid boil, she put the noodles inside the pot. He thought she looked beautiful and natural doing things that a wife would do for a husband. It endeared her to him even more. It made him want to do things for her, too. He wanted to smile, but he didn't. She wouldn't appreciate the fact that he was thinking of her as a 'wife'. He had never thought of any other woman as a 'wife' before, and he never care to do so, but with her, it was right.

He stood behind her, placed his chin on her shoulder, and reached in front of her. She felt giddy by his close proximity. How could she tell him that she wasn't going to fall for his act?

"Listen, Malfoy," she said, turning, pushing him away with both hands on his chest, "I'm not falling for your act." That was amazingly easy. "I don't know why you're so intent to form a relationship with me, but stop it."

He frowned and then laughed. He found a bottle of wine above her icebox and started to open it. "Form a relationship? You say absolutely the oddest things, and I say, Granger, bad show on your part. I told you, I find you irresistible. Even I'm not sure why. Perhaps you can tell me, wait, no you can't, because you must have a terrible view of yourself if you really don't know why I would want to date you."

She stirred the spaghetti quickly, and then turned to him, wooden spoon in her hand. She pointed it at him. "I do not have low self-esteem! That's a horrible thing to say to me, and if I did have low self-esteem it would be an even worse thing to say to me! My self worth has nothing to do with this, if that's what you're getting at, Malfoy. I understand why most men would want to date me. I'm smart, pretty, have a good job, and wonderful self-esteem! I just don't know what _your_ angle is."

He had just poured wine into two glasses when she finished her diatribe. Now he folded his arms in front of him and leaned against the counter. "How dare you," he said, contritely. "Have I given you a reason to doubt me? Have I given you some sort of mix messages, or a reason to believe that I'm insincere? Why did your ex-fiancés date you in the beginning? I think I know why they stopped dating you, but why did they start?"

She smacked him on the chest with the wooden spoon. He rubbed the space with his hand. She explained, "First, you would have to ask them why they started dating me. As to why they stopped, it's not for any reasons you would understand."

"So it wasn't because you were a self-righteous, know-it-all?" he said, then smirked.

She wanted to hit him again, but she didn't. "For your information, Malfoy, I broke up with them."

"All three?" he asked. Then he gave her a wicked, half-smiled and said, "You dirty, little minx you. Were you dating them all three at once?"

"NO!" She gave in to the feeling: she pushed him – and it felt heavenly. He stumbled slightly. She barked, "I dated them separately."

"Why did you break up with them?" Now he really wanted to know. It was vital that he find these things out, because standing there in Hermione Granger's kitchen, with noodles boiling on the stove, bread baking in the oven, and the woman he had known most of his life standing in front of him, he had an epiphany. A mind-blowing, life altering, epiphany: Draco Malfoy was going to MARRY Hermione Granger some day. Therefore, he had to know why she had broken up with these other chaps so he didn't repeat any of their mistakes.

She stirred her sauce and said, "Well, with Ron it was because we were better suited as friends, and since he couldn't admit it, I finally did."

He made a disgusting sound, something between a gag and the sound a person makes when they're swallowing their tongue. "I was really, really hoping one of your ex's wasn't Weasley. Go on, you broke up with him, and I know it was justifiable, you need say no more. Who was the next bloke, and why?"

She moved the spaghetti to the sink and strained it in a colander. Looking over her shoulder she said, "One of them was Michael Corner."

Draco pushed her aside with his shoulder, finished rinsing the noodles, and was placing them back in the pan while she finished the sauce. Draco said, "I hate to break this to you, sweetheart, but if a man decides to come out of the closet, that certainly can't be blamed on the girlfriend or the wife. You can't even blame the closet."

He took the pot with the sauce from her hand and poured it over the noodles. She took the bread from the oven. It dawned on her that they were working well together. They were in sync, and it was almost as if they were in the middle of a silent symphony…she was the melody and he was the harmony. That thought scared her. Perhaps there was more to Draco than she first suspected.

She placed the food on the table and reached for plates. He took the plates from her and set them on the table. She finally revealed, "He didn't come out as gay until last year, and we were already broken up by then. I didn't even imagine. No, I broke up with him because I didn't think work place relationships were proper."

He was placing silverware around their plates and at her declaration he dropped a knife, stared at her with his mouth open, and blinked several times in quick succession. What did she just say? The knife made a clanging sound on her red and white tile floor. She bent down and picked it up, wiped it on her shirt, and placed it at his place setting.

Finally, he asked, "You're joking, right?" At least that was his hope. If not, he might have to fire her so he could marry her.

"I'm serious. I thought it was a conflict of interests. I was his boss, you know. And we were more in love with the idea of being in love, and we both wanted to be married, but not particularly to each other," she continued.

"Because his idea of a perfect mate is a bloke, and your idea is me," he said with a laugh. He was no longer worried. "You know, your problem with Corner wasn't so much that you worked together, but that you wanted different things, or maybe it was because you both wanted the same thing. You both wanted a husband with a penis. That's neither here nor there and has nothing to do with us or our situation." He pulled out her chair.

She rolled her eyes, sat down, and filled both their plates. "I'm serious. I mean, the working together thing was just a part of it, but a big part."

"Okay, moving on, because I refuse to discuss work relations with you anymore tonight, who was the third chap and why did you break that engagement, oh, and did you keep all three rings?" He took a large bite of spaghetti.

"I gave them all back. An engagement ring is a promise to marry. If you break it off, you give it back," she explained, as if he was a two-year-old.

He shrugged and said, "I wouldn't have given any back. If I give you a ring and you break it off with me, you have my permission to keep the ring. Of course, why would you break if off? Now, number three please."

She sighed, placed her fork next to her plate and said, "That was the hardest of them all. I really loved him, but he didn't want me to work. He wanted us to marry, and then have children right away, and he didn't particularly want a wife who had her own thoughts and ideas."

"Who was this witless wonder?" Draco inquired, acting indignant, playing a part, for her benefit. The truth was he was happy she had thrown all three men over for her principles. If she hadn't she wouldn't be here for him. He felt he was perfect for her. He didn't have ginger hair like Weasley, he wasn't gay like Michael, and he couldn't give two figs if she cooked, cleaned, or the like. Sure, he wanted children someday, but he wouldn't tell her that right now. Best to keep things like that close to the vest, especially seeing that she didn't even know he wanted to marry her, yet.

"It was…oh, you'll never let me live it down if I tell you," she complained with a frown. She stood up, went to the icebox and got out a chocolate cake. It was from a bakery, but Draco thought it looked good. She sat it on the table and cut two pieces, one for him, and one for her.

"You can't just start a story and not finish it. Tell me," he urged. He had to know. He stood up again, got two glasses, and poured them both some milk. He didn't know if she needed milk with cake, but he did. Apparently she did, because she said thank you.

"I'd rather not say. It's a friend of yours. I only dated him for three months, but I was taken by him, and became engaged straight away, but I broke the engagement when he told me what he expected of me," she offered.

Draco felt anger, suddenly and something more. Jealousy perhaps? Who was this twat that she had dated for three months, who was supposedly a friend of his? He sat up straight, pushed his partially eaten plate of food away and said, "Tell me the name of this former friend of mine."

"I think you're _still_ friends," she replied. "The point isn't who it is, it's that he wanted me to cook and clean and take care of the house, and anyone who knows me knows that's NOT me."

Draco still felt anger, and it seethed off him and though the rational part of his brain told him it wasn't justified, he still felt it. He had no claim on Hermione Granger - yet. She didn't know how he felt. They hadn't even dated. Still, he was angry, and he took it out on her. He fumed, "Anyone who's eaten this slop you call cooking should have known that was a doomed wish from the start." He stood up to leave the table, but he didn't get far before she struck.

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him to sod off, but instead she stood, lifted his plate, (it had more food on it than hers) and she dumped this half-eaten plate of spaghetti right over the back side of his head. He swished around to glare at her, shocked, without words! She looked around to plot an escape plan, but then, she started to laugh. She grabbed a dishcloth and put it over her mouth to keep her laugh to herself. He looked ridiculous with bits of noodles hanging off his head and down his shoulders, and red sauce dripping off the back of his hair.

He lifted his hand to the back of his head, and said, "My hair, Granger! You got sauce in my hair!" He took the cloth from her hand and began to clean his hair. She continued to laugh as she sunk to the floor. He threw the dishcloth back at her face. How dare she laugh at him.

"Are you laughing at me?" he asked, appalled.

She was still on the floor, cleaning the spaghetti sauce, and she nodded and said, "I'm glad something happened to someone else today, that's all I'm saying. I'm not laughing." Yes she was. She was laughing at him.

"You caused it to happen!" he spat. He bent down to help her clean the floor.

She pointed at him and said, "Just like you caused all the other accidents today!" He stood up and she held out her hand so that he could help her up. He got a dastardly thought. He placed his hand on top of the cake, and then held out his hand. When she placed her hand in his, it smeared hers with icing.

And she laughed some more. He wanted to remain angry with her, but he saw the humour in the situation, so he smiled. In addition, he thought life was too short to be angry with the woman he intended to marry someday. He grabbed his wand, cleaned his hair first, because his priorities would always be 'Malfoys first', all others second, and then he cleaned her floor.

She held out her hand and asked, "Are you going to clean my hand?"

He pulled her toward him. She landed hard against his rock-hard chest. He held her hand with icing near his face. "Tell me who the bloke was first, and then I will."

"I can clean my own hand," she reminded him. She felt happy in his arms. She felt happy and warm all over.

Pressing her closer he pleaded, "But it will bother me all night if I don't know, which means I'll both you all night."

"You're such a little boy," she moaned. She also knew he had a point, and for once in his life he was probably being truthful to her. She closed her eyes, opened one, and tentatively said, "Adrian Pucey."

"THAT PONCE?" he shouted. He was quiet for a moment, thinking things over, when he asked, "When was this?"

"After Ron, before Michael, so maybe four years ago, why?"

"That bastard," he mumbled. "Do you know who Gretchen's mum is?"

She didn't know where this line of questioning was leading, or how it was going to get her hand clean of icing. She also wasn't sure why he still held her so tight, but all in all it still felt nice. "Who?"

"Who does she look like?" Draco asked. He backed her bum against the countertop and pressed his body closer to hers. He still held her icing hand near his face; his other hand was low on her back, her free hand against his chest.

"She doesn't look like her dad," Hermione mulled over aloud. "She has beautiful straight, dark hair. I don't recall who Nott married, though."

"He married _my_ ex-fiancée," Draco revealed with a slight pout.

"YOU WERE ENGAGED?" she bellowed. She pushed away from him with her clean hand. "Where was I? I don't recall this? When did this happen?"

"It was an arranged engagement, Granger, from childhood, by our parents. Astoria Greengrass," he said with a long sigh. "But she hated my guts. I wasn't thrilled with her either. She left me for Nott, which I was ever so pleased about, even if I did feel bad for him. He had to marry her, if you understand what I mean."

"Oh, yes, poor Gretchen, and poor Theo," Hermione said seriously. She brought her hand up to her mouth and licked off a bit of icing. He watched her intently. His groin tightened. "What does that have to do with Adrian and me?"

"You say it was four years ago that you were engaged, right?"

She nodded.

"Four years ago is also when Astoria started cheating on Theo, with none other than Adrian 'the ponce' Pucey. She left her husband, and her little girl, for that effing moron. He was engaged to you, and he was sleeping with a woman, who had a precious little daughter, and he had the nerve to want to keep you barefoot and pregnant, yet a woman whose entire goal was to be barefoot and pregnant left her husband and child for him. Ironic, no?"

Hermione frowned and walked to the other side of the kitchen. "Not ironic, really, but a bit twisted. That stupid, oh, I can't even think of a bad enough name to say!" She stomped her foot.

"Wanker, Tosser, Ponce, Prat, Twat, Git?" Draco suggested, "They all describe Pucey in my opinion."

"What?" she asked. "I was trying to think of a name for Astoria! How could she cheat on her husband and break her marriage vows, but on top of that, how could she leave a beautiful little girl like Gretchen? I thought Gretchen told me she didn't really know her mum?"

"Well, she never sees her anymore, and it's easier on the little princess to say that than to divulge the truth to strangers," Draco revealed. "In many ways, I feel responsible, because she was betrothed to me."

Hermione didn't know how to respond to that. She walked over to the sink, to wash her hand. He came up behind her, admired her very nice legs and her previously admired bum. Someday he would have to thank Astoria for leaving him. If she hadn't, he might be married to her today, and he would never be standing in Granger's kitchen, watching her wash her hand. Merlin help him…he was getting hard watching her wash her hands. He was pathetic.

He took a step closer, and when she turned around, she almost bumped into him. "Oh, sorry, Draco."

"How sorry are you, Granger?" he asked with a lascivious smile. He reached over to where the cake was still on the table, and he stuck his finger in the icing. He placed the sweet confection on her lips, and then leaned forward. He wanted to kiss it away, but he said, "Are you sorry enough to try to make me feel better? Kiss it all and make the pain go away?"

"Pain?" she asked, inadvertently licking the icing from her lips. It was one of the sexiest things he had ever witnessed. He still had icing on his finger, so he swiped it across her lips again, and this time, he brought his arms around her and held her close.

"I am in pain," he responded. "Pain of your making, and you must put me out of my misery, sweetheart."

"Draco," she warned, but didn't say another word. She didn't know what to say. She brought her hand up to her mouth and swiped the icing away with her index finger. She didn't dare lick the icing off this time. He would construe that as sexual, and want to kiss her, and she wasn't going to kiss him!

What she didn't know was that everything she did he found sexual.

He considered her for a split second, and then he took her hand in both of his and started to suck on the end of her finger, to lick away the icing. She almost slipped to the floor, in a heap at his feet. Fire started in her belly as he twirled his tongue around the tip, licking the frosting from the end.

She closed her eyes. He licked the backside of her finger, swirled around the end for the second time, and then he licked down the front. She opened her eyes, and noticed his were half-closed, in desire.

Placing her whole finger in his mouth, he sucked hard, and then withdrew her finger slowly, holding her hand with both his. She could feel his teeth raking over her skin. If his goal was to arouse her and make her want him, he had succeeded.

Then the air around her changed. She pushed him away, almost violently. She said, "You had better tell me that physical attraction isn't the only thing between us, because if it is, I have to tell you right now that the only thing I can tell you is: 'goodbye'. I've told better men than you to hit the road, Draco Malfoy, so I have no compunction about telling you to go. Is there or is there not more to what you feel for me than desire?"

He thought that she knew how he felt for her. He also thought she knew how to put a damper on things. He pulled her to him and said, "There's more than the physical, damn you," and to show her so, he did something stupid. He kissed her again, hard.

* * *

_Coming up at seven o'clock:_

"_Don't come in here, Malfoy."__ your__ dress?" he asked.__NO! I just don't want you to see me yet!__" Hermione answered.__pay attention to her. He stepped into her large, walk in closet and he almost gasped out loud. He knew he was staring at her, but he couldn't help it. She looked, dare he think something so simple, but she looked so very pretty! _

"Why, do you look ugly in

"

He didn't


	7. Seven o'clock pm

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 7: Seven o'clock and it's Time to Get Dressed**

Hermione pushed Draco Malfoy away from her hard. She wasn't up for his antics. Frankly, she didn't have **time **for nonsense, and right now, ROMANCE and LOVE and SNOGGING were stuff of nonsense and twaddle and they definitely took up plenty of time! In addition, she doubted his true intent, and rightly so in her opinion.

She said, "You had better tell me that physical attraction isn't the only thing between us, because if it is, I have to tell you right now that the only thing I can tell you is: 'goodbye'. I've told better men than you to hit the road, Draco Malfoy, so I have no compunction about telling you to go. Is there or is there not more to what you feel for me than desire?"

He thought that she knew how he felt for her. He also thought she knew how to put a damper on things. Weren't they enjoying themselves just now in her kitchen? Hadn't they just shared an enjoyable dinner? Hadn't they talked, and cooked together, and shared a laugh or two? Had he tried to put any outrageous moves on her in the past hour? How dare she question his intentions!

He pulled her to him and said, "There's more than the physical, damn you!" She made him so angry that he wanted to say something persuasive, eloquent and articulate! He wanted to tell her exactly everything he was feeling and thinking, but mostly he wanted to kiss her – but that didn't mean there was only physical attraction between them – it just meant that she looked so incredibly kissable when she was gnashing her teeth together in anger. Therefore, he did something stupid. He kissed her again, hard.

His hand went around to the back of her neck, and as quickly as possible his other hand went to cup her cheek. He kissed her fast, with INTENT, then pulled back, loomed over her a bit, smiled, (what was most likely a Machiavellian smile) and then he kissed her cheek sweetly.

He leaned away, confused by his own actions, and he stared at her keenly, absorbing every fine detail about her face before he kissed the other cheek. Pulling back again, smiling his same smile, he decided this was a good way to show her what he felt. He started toward her lips again, when she stopped him with a gentle hand to his mouth.

"What…what are you doing?" she stammered.

He kissed her fingertips, and then removed her hand away from his lips. "Kissing you," he said, leaning away, still smiling an endearing, un-Malfoyish, smile. "I'm showing you there's more than the physical between us, by kissing you sweetly, and by holding in my passion." He kissed her forehead, then her nose, his mouth lingered above her lips and he whispered right on top of her them. "Am I succeeding?"

If the throbbing between her legs and the ache in her breasts and the butterflies in her belly had anything to say about it, hell yes, he was succeeding, but not in the way he meant to succeed! He was proving her point, not his, and with nothing more than small, almost detached, kisses. "You're proving some sort of point. I'm just at a loss to what," she replied.

He leaned forward again, pressing the warmth of his entire body next hers, backing her into the wall. The hand that was on the back of her neck pressed onto her lower back, causing her to stand firmly against his own strong, masculine body.

He thought one more kiss should prove everything to her. He pressed his lips to hers, urged hers to open vaguely, and he licked and kissed her lips with small, almost hesitant kisses.

Then she ruined everything by moaning. She moaned a small, sweet moan, which sent a passionate craving throughout his entire body and before he knew it, he plunged in as deeply as he could, all tongue, lips and true to the nucleus of this experiment: _intent!_ As he kissed her harder he too moaned.

And just like him, she was momentarily driven to temporary lunacy by the sound he elicited. She would have fallen on the floor, melted actually, right at his feet, if he wasn't holding her so tightly against him and the wall. This kiss, soon to go down in the history books as the best kiss in her world, receded and then surged, with a zeal and passion and emotion that Hermione Granger had always presumed was simply legend, but now knew was authentic and real, because she was experiencing it.

His mouth was forceful and serious. What began as an innocent, charming kiss, to prove that there was more to what he felt for her than a physical attraction, ended as a hot, sweltering, anxious, tidal wave of pure passion and desire. It awoke things in both of them with such a loud clamor that they didn't even know such things were quiescent before it began.

No….no…no, her mind reeled under the implications of this kiss! Perhaps he did feel more than just something physical, because while this was an extreme example of a physical kiss, it was so very much more and that scared her. Hermione hated to be scared. She usually avoided it. She also hated to be wrong, and by golly, she was wrong this time, because there were so many layers to Draco Malfoy that it amazed her!

She knew one thing for certain…she felt the same as him. He awoke a bonfire in her made up of passion, fervor, zeal and ardor and she moved her hands from his chest to the back of his neck, and pulled on his hair, and moved her mouth harder against his. He was slightly shocked by her kiss' rigorous return, so much so that he wound one hand in her hair, placed the other hand on her breast, and let out another loud groan while he kissed her harder still. He knew he was proving his point somehow, he just didn't know how.

He moved his mouth to her cheek, then around her jaw and neck. He sucked on her neck and she sighed loudly. He placed a knee between her thighs and she pressed forward. He thought he might die from want. He wanted to do more with his hands, but BLOODY HELL this kiss was supposed to show her it WASN'T about only physical. It was supposed to be a sweet, reeled in, almost dispassionate kiss, even though it had moved past that long ago.

Still, his mouth went back up to her jaw, back down to her neck, and back and forth yet again. She literally could no longer stand. If he let her go right now she would fall at his feet, and his ego was already larger than most egos. If she fell at his feet she might have to worship him, and his head would swell up along with another part of his anatomy. Therefore, she held on tightly to his shoulders, to keep herself standing.

This kiss seemed to go on forever and ever, never to end, and neither seemed to want it to end.

But end it must, because she had to get ready for a banquet in his effing honour. So somehow she managed to push him away. She pushed Draco Malfoy away from her, and stopped the best kiss of her entire life!

When he finally moved his mouth from hers, he had a dazed look on his face. They were both breathing hard. He finally said, "Damn you, Granger. I didn't mean for that to happen. I wanted to prove to you that I felt more for you than merely the physical. That was my true and utter intent, I swear, but actually, I think I still proved my point, don't you?"

She reached up and touched her mouth with trembling fingers, mirroring how she had touched his lips earlier and said, "By jove, Malfoy, I think you might be right, and I hate it when you're right about something and I'm wrong. How can I continue to live my life blaming you for everything wrong if you're right?" She finally smiled.

He ducked his head to hide his smile, his forehead resting on her heaving shoulders. He removed his right hand from the tangle of her hair and her left hand from her breast. He looked shocked that it was even there. "Hey, how did that get there? Did you know it was there? I didn't." He laughed.

"Go home," she managed to say.

"Why? Damn you, Granger, don't be a fool. What else must I do to prove to you that I want to date you? Draw blood? Shave my head? What?" He moved away and paced in front of her.

She expelled a small laugh and said, "No, you don't have to do anything. I just want you to go home. Go home and change into your dress robes, or Muggle tuxedo, or whatever you plan to wear tonight. I have to do my hair and get dressed. You're my date for the banquet."

"Bollocks, Granger!" he harped. "I don't know why you're being so stubborn about this."

She looked at him confused. He looked at her confused. Then finally, it dawned on him what she had said. _He was her date for the banquet_. Well alright, then.

"I'll return in a dash. Prepare your wards to accept me, sweetheart." He popped away that quickly.

Hermione laughed, touched her tingling lips again, and went upstairs to get ready.

Makeup done just right, her best bra and knickers on, she placed her hair up in the front, but left the back down. It curled across her shoulders in gentle waves. She stood inside her large, walk-in closet and stared at the three evening gowns she had. How pathetic was it that she was hosting this banquet, and had planned every single, little, minuscule detail down to the last crumb on each plate, and she forgot to buy a dress! She didn't have time! Now, she cursed that fact. The banquet started at eight, and she really should be there early, and it was already 7:33, so she didn't have time to go shopping. Perhaps a bit of transfiguration would work.

She took her lightest coloured gown off the hanger, the one that looked like spun, silver silk, and she moved a bit of the flounce, added sheer to the sleeves, draped the neckline, tightened the bodice, and lowered the hem. When she was done she stared at her reflection. Something was still missing. She just didn't know what. It was pretty, but lacking.

Draco arrived minutes before. He was surprised she really did change her wards to accept him, although he was glad for it. That way, when he wanted to 'pop over' for a quick kiss (or something a bit more 'mature') he would have no difficulties. Opting to wear a dark grey Muggle tuxedo, with a silver tie, he smoothed out imaginary wrinkles as he started up her stairs, hoping to catch her in some state of undress.

She heard him on her stairs.

"Don't come in here, Malfoy!" she pleaded.

"Why, do you look ugly in your dress?" he asked.

"NO! I just don't want you to see me yet!" Hermione answered. The truth was she wasn't pleased with her dress.

He didn't pay attention to her. He stepped into her large, walk-in closet and he almost gasped out loud. He knew he was staring at her, but he couldn't help it. She looked, dare he think something so simple, but she looked so very pretty!

She was staring at herself in a long, cheval glass mirror in the corner of the large closet. She hadn't yet heard him enter. He just stared and stared right along with her. Finally her gaze met his in the mirror's reflection. She said, "I know, something's not right with it. I didn't have time to buy a new dress, so I had to transfigure an old one, and while I like the style, something's off. You look dashing, however."

She turned to face him.

He had yet to say a word since entering the closet. Pretty wasn't a strong enough word, but it was what popped out of his mouth. "Pretty, I mean, you look very pretty. Very pretty indeed."

He wouldn't have minded if the dress showed a bit more leg and cleavage, but still, it suited her well. She turned to look at herself in the mirror again. He made eye contact with her reflection and he said, "If I may?"

She had no clue what he was about to do, but she stood by as he withdrew his wand, pointed it at her dress, and changed the colour from silver to a soft, shimmering, lilac. "I think you should always wear a lilac dress when we go on our first dates," he said with a smile.

She laughed and asked, "Are we going to have more than one first date? You said 'dates' with an 's' on the end."

He shrugged and said, "Don't you know, every date with me will be so wrought with excitement that you'll anticipate them all as if each one is a first dates. First dates are the best, you know, as are first date kisses."

Hermione looked back at her reflection and then said, "I don't think any kiss can top the one from earlier."

He laughed, came up behind her so closely that she felt his breath on her neck, and said, "You keep thinking that, Granger, just go on thinking that. I proved you wrong once, I'm not above doing it again."

She turned around to face him and said, "Here's the thing, Malfoy…I'm still not really sure I want a relationship. I no longer question your intentions, but I like my independence."

He nodded and said, "Sure, don't we all?"

"I like not having to answer to anyone," she continued.

"Me too," he revealed.

"I don't particularly like to have people to answer to, or have to tell someone where I've been twenty-four hours a day. My time is my own. I cherish it, because I have so little of it. I don't want to get serious, I don't want to get married, I don't want to leave my job, and I love this house! This is my house, bought with my money, and I don't intend to ever leave it!"

"It's a great house," he agreed with a smile, finally realizing why she broke all of her engagements.

It wasn't because there was anything wrong with the men in which she was previously engaged. It wasn't because she didn't have time for romance; it was because of one simple little fact: Hermione Granger was afraid of falling in love. Of course, he was too afraid of her to tell her that he had her figured out, so on a whim he lied and said, "And we aren't speaking the rest of our lives here. Let's just get through the night, okay?"

She expelled a puff of air and said, "I have a date with Draco Malfoy tonight. Oh my holy stars, help me!"

"Remember that phrase. You'll be uttering it again before the night's through," he said with a wink. She looked as if she was about to argue that point, so he grabbed her purse, her shawl and her wand, pushed them in her hands, and disapparated them both to the museum for the banquet.

* * *

_Coming up:_

_Hermione felt something tickle her leg. Goodness, it was Draco Malfoy! He was under the table. She moved aside the long, white tablecloth and stuck her head under the table to look at him._

"_What are you doing under there?" she demanded._

"_Would you believe I'm hiding from someone?" he joked._

"_NO!" she hissed in a loud whisper._

"_Would you believe I dropped my wallet?" he asked. His hand went slowly up her leg. She kicked at him with her foot, but he took a hold of that with his other hand._

"_GET OUT OF THERE!" she whispered louder. She sat up and looked around, then ducked back down. "Please!"_

"_Would you believe that I want to do this?" he asked. _

_She gasped loudly at the next thing he did. She was about to hex him with her wand when Harry Potter walked up to the front of her table and to say hello. She stared at him in horror, and then she moaned in a bit of pleasure and tried to cause Draco a lot of pain by kicking him with her foot._

* * *

_A/N: __A Gold Star to anyone who knows why the color of Hermione's dress is significant. If you know why, you've truly read too many of my stories._

_On another note, unbeknownst to all of you, this story is completely influence by all my other stories. As a challenge given to me by a reader, I've taken one scene from each story, in advance, and I have to somehow work it into the upcoming chapter of THIS story. At the end of the story, I'll give away the snippets from each story that I was challenged to work into each chapter of this story. It's been hard, but I'm doing it!_


	8. Eight o'clock pm

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter Eight: Eight o'clock and it's Time for the Banquet**

Hermione and Draco walked together into the lobby of museum, which had been transformed into a banquet hall, if only for tonight, from the main Floo on the top floor. The entire place seemed to sparkle and shine. Hermione smiled. Draco stole a glance her way. Her whole countenance seemed to sparkle and shine as brightly as the room before them. He felt, dare he think it, slightly proud and happy at the fete she had accomplished and was about to tell her so when she left Draco's arm and ran into Michael's embrace.

"Oh, Michael, it all looks so much better than we planned!" she shrieked excitedly.

"I'm glad you like it, since it was all due to you, seeing that we followed your plans exactly," he teased. He looked down at her foot. She was wearing black, ballerina flats. "Your dress is beautiful, but your foot must still hurt, since you don't have sexy shoes on your feet. I instructed you to wear sexy shoes tonight!"

She made a strange face, held up her previously hurt foot, and said, "I know you did, but I didn't have time to shop, so I had to transfigure a dress I already had, and I didn't think to transfigure my shoes. Should I change them?"

"No," he waned, "you're still the most beautiful woman in the room."

Draco walked up behind them and said, "I concur." He placed his hand possessively on Hermione's back. She blushed a bit and shrugged it off, but he placed it back. Michael gave them both odd looks.

"Oh, didn't see you there, boss," Michael said, putting extra emphasis on the word 'boss'. "You arrived just in time. Hermione just got here, too."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know. We came together." He placed his arm around her shoulders, still possessively and somewhat over protectively. "She's my date."

"Seriously?" Michael asked, astonished. He looked back at Hermione. "Seriously?" he repeated to her.

"What? Why is that surprising?" she asked, her feelings a bit hurt. Draco looked from the man to the woman and he felt his anger come to a boil.

"Well, wasn't it just a few hours ago that you were bellowing at him and full of misery because he was here in the first place…in YOUR museum? Likewise, didn't he beat you up, break your toe, and almost poison you?" Michael asked, chagrined. "I mean, seriously, now you're on a date together? What do you want me to say to that? This is beyond unbelievable."

Hermione gasped and said, "You have some gall, Michael Corner, and I want you to mind your own business, if you can't be supportive."

"Supportive?" he almost shouted. People turned to look at them. He lowered his voice and said, "I should know better than anyone that you often pick the wrong men most of the time. And on that note, you have terrible timing when you do pick men, but I thought you were going to take a break from all this nonsense. Take some time for Hermione. I thought that was the plan…to work on yourself, and the museum? I thought you said you didn't have time for romance."

He pulled her away from Malfoy, though Draco still heard every word, and said, "Don't you think someone like Malfoy would take away all your time, Hermione? Perhaps that's his plan. Perhaps he wants to take you completely away from the museum. I don't know, but I don't like it."

"Oh, he's just jealous," Draco laboured. He stepped closer to the other two, placed a hand on Hermione's arm, and turned her slightly to face him. "He only wishes he had a date as good looking and posh."

Michael threw back his head and laughed and said, "I'm not jealous that you're dating Hermione. I'm happy _for you! _You have the smartest and best looking girl in the world on your arm."

"I was talking about you being jealous that she's dating me," Draco said, actually sincerely. He leaned over to Hermione and stage whispered, "I thought you said he was a ponce."

Michael stormed away. Hermione called after him and said, "Well that was uncalled for. The thing is, I don't know if I'm angry with him or with you right now." She sighed loudly, decided to apologize for Michael, but then took Draco's hand to lead him away from the crowd. "I'm sorry for the way he acted, but I do have a request, Malfoy."

"Yes, I'll have sex with you tonight," he said seriously. "And you don't even have to beg."

She merely stared at him for a full five seconds before she smiled. "You're a nutter." She couldn't help but laugh. "No, I was going to ask that you not act as if this is anything more than what it is. You see how Michael reacted. That's how everyone's going to be. Everyone knows how I've given up on all my relationships, and how I've claimed not to have time for romance. They also are going to question your motives, as much as I have, so please, don't act as if this is a big deal, or as if it's more than it is. It's one little date, that's all."

He placed his hands on his hips and said, "I have news for you, Granger. It's more than a date. You won't dismiss me so easily. And all that crap about not having time for dating and romance is a bunch of bollocks! I've never heard such crap. That's the type of crap that crap talks about when it's talking crap!"

"What? You are a nut. I just meant that this is just what it is, that's all, and nothing more, and I'm asking that you don't try to portray it as more," she said, ineloquently.

That one little request angered Draco for some reason. "What is 'this', Granger?" He spread his arms wide. "I told that ponce, Corner that we were on a date, because THAT is what THIS is! I didn't make it out to be more than it was. We ARE on a date. I kissed you senseless earlier, and I enjoyed it and so did you. Calm down, and try to have a bit of fun. If you can't loosen up a bit, I might rethink _my_ dating options for tonight."

He picked up two champagne flutes from a passing waiter. He tried to hand one to her, but she glowered at him, arms crossed.

"I don't drink champagne," she mumbled.

"Fine," he said. He downed one glass, and when Theo, with little Gretchen on his arm, approached, he handed the other glass toward them. Theo shook his head no to the bubbly drink. Gretchen reached up for it immediately.

Neither man seemed taken aback when the little girl started to take a drink. Hermione took it from the girl quickly, called Draco an 'evil man' and Theo a 'questionable father' and she gave the champagne back to a waiter. Then she took Gretchen's hand, promised to show her one of their new exhibits, and they walked away without saying goodbye.

"What's up her arse?" Theo asked, leaning toward Draco. "I'm not a bad father. I wouldn't have let Gretchen drink the whole thing. I was just going to let her have a taste. She would have seen how bad it tasted."

"Oh, she's angry at me, because we're on a date, apparently," Draco said mockingly. Theo glared at him. Draco shrugged and said, "It doesn't make sense to me, either."

"What do you mean you're on a date, apparently? Either you're on a date or not," Theo pointed out.

"We are, but she doesn't want people to think that we are," Draco said, knowing full well that he was adding salt to his own wound by making it more than it was. That was not exactly her point. She didn't say that they weren't on a date. She said it wasn't MORE than a date.

"Granger always was a strange bird. Beautiful beyond the pale, but a bit daft and straight lace," Theo continued. "So, have you shagged her yet?"

"Hey!" Draco said, punching Theo hard on the shoulder. Theo held his arm and winced. "That's the future mother of my future children you're maligning there, Nott. I plan to marry her someday."

Theo looked at Draco incredulously and then laughed a loud, boisterous laugh. "Wait…let me get this straight…she doesn't even want people to know you're on a date, yet you plan to marry her someday. Oh, priceless, priceless. Will she let people know you're married, or what? Oh, and you do know that Astoria and Adrian are slated to be here tonight, don't you? As soon as I see them come in, I plan to whisk Gretchen out of here. She doesn't want to see her mum, nor do I, and Adrian was Granger's last fiancée, you know."

Draco frowned. "No effing way are they coming here. This is my night and my museum. This moment belongs to me! I'll bar the door so they can't come in! Who invited that knob-head and that stupid slag, anyway?"

"Apparently Adrian endowed a large amount of money to the museum before you bought it, so his was an automatic invite. The money came along to the museum before you bought it, but long after Granger broke their engagement. Apparently she remains 'friends' with all her ex-boy toys. Astoria is joined at his hip, so they're a match set." Theo picked up a glass of white wine from a tray and took a large gulp.

Draco looked at his oldest friend with disgust. How was he privy to these things when Draco wasn't? "How do you know all of this? How do you even know Adrian and Granger were once engaged?" Draco asked. "I only found out she had been engaged to him this afternoon."

Theo became quiet, and then said, "That's for Granger to tell you. I really need to find my daughter." He turned and walked away.

Draco didn't like lies and deceit unless he was the one doing the lying and deceiving. If Theo knew something concerning Adrian, Astoria and Hermione, he needed to know, too. Hermione claimed she didn't know Adrian and Astoria were a couple, or was that a lie as well? He also wanted to know why Hermione was so reluctant to date again. It couldn't be as simplistic as the mundane…'I don't have time to date'. That was a load of hogwash! There had to be something more to it, and he was going to find out what it was.

He walked around the large lobby, greeting people, thanking them for their well-wishes and congratulations, telling everyone that it was all due to Hermione's hard work, as he continued to look for her. He finally found her off the main lobby, in a room that housed rare artifacts from Hogwarts.

She was showing something to Gretchen, telling her a story of the school and the founders. Her eyes were bright; she was smiling, and animated. Theo stood to one side, listening as well, as enraptured and enthralled by the story as his daughter. Draco was enraptured as well, but by the storyteller.

She looked up once, noticed Draco, nodded her head slightly, but continued weaving her tale. She lifted the chalice and handed it to little Gretchen, pointed out some of the markings on it, and then placed it back in the glass case. Theo took Gretchen's hand and led her to another display case as Draco walked up to Hermione's side.

"You're very passionate about your work," Draco said sincerely.

Hermione could only smile in return. He looked around, saw that no one was watching, and asked, "May I take your hand? No one is watching."

Her smile vanished and she reached for Draco's hand. "Draco, that wasn't my intent, to make you think that I'm ashamed to be here with you. I don't even know what I meant earlier. I'm sorry. This is all so new to me. I haven't dated in a while. I haven't even cared to date, and I think I just want everything to go well, and I really don't want anyone to question my position here, with you being the new owner."

He pulled her close, his hand holding hers. "What position would you like them to question? The one where you're underneath me, or on top?" He wiggled his eyebrows. She slapped his chest lightly. "I know, I'll behave," he said, before she could say it. "Seriously, I didn't know you knew so much about this old nonsense."

She laughed. "Old nonsense? Antiquities from the founders era referred to as old nonsense…I swear. It's true that you don't know me well, though. We've known each other most of our lives, but we don't know anything about each other, not really."

He still had her hand. He began to pull her through the room, to another room, bobbing and weaving through the crowd. "We know the important things about each other. You're a woman, I'm a man."

"You mean we know the obvious, and that's not good enough. If this were truly a first date, we would spend a good deal of it getting to know each other. Let's go somewhere quiet and talk for a moment," she suggested. "We can get to know each other better, and become better acquainted."

"And snog," he added, happily.

She didn't dispute that, so he continued to smile. She led him to a stairwell and up and up they went. Finally, she pushed him through the door, and they were on the roof. It was a warm evening, with barely any wind, and the sky over Muggle London was just turning a hazy shade of grey. She pointed to an old crate and sat down. He joined her.

"First, ask me a question, something you really want to know about me, and no matter what, I'll answer," she requested. She placed her hands in her lap, clasped them together, and waited.

He looked her over, closely, and then leaned toward her. His finger touched her collarbone, right above the neckline of her dress, and he asked, "Has that freckle ever been kissed by a man?"

"What?" she asked. She shivered slightly when his finger grazed her skin. It remained on her, pulling back the neckline of her dress, on her skin, a few centimeters from the freckle he mentioned.

He nodded to the freckle, drew a small circle around it with the tip of his finger, and asked again, "That little freckle, the poor little lonely guy. He's the only one I see there on your collarbone, and I wanted to know if it's ever been kissed by a man."

She looked down at his finger. In fact, his finger mesmerized her. She felt as if his finger was holding her in place. If it wasn't there, she might float away. Was he talking? Did he ask a question? Was she supposed to answer? Finally, she squeaked out, "I don't know. Maybe?"

She thought that was an insane question. It wasn't the type of questions she meant when she suggested that they have a chat and get to know more about the other. It was also highly erotic. She couldn't do erotic. She didn't have **time.** There was a presentation soon, and a tour of the museum for the visiting luminaries, and goodness gracious, was he still touching her?

She moved his hand from her person with both of hers, placed it in his lap and said, "Good question. My turn. Have you dated anyone seriously? I mean, you claimed to have been engaged to Astoria, but you said that was arranged when you were young."

"No, you still hold the engagement record of us two," he said with a twinkle. "My turn to ask another question." He sat back on the crate, crossed his legs at his ankles, and reached over to place a hand on her arm, causing her to turn around to face him. "Let me think…what do I want to know? The burning question about the freckle was the life changing question."

She laughed.

"I know. Do you close your eyes when the final moment comes?" He asked this softly. He leaned closer.

She looked utterly confused. "The final moment?"

He pulled on her arm, his hand holding her upper arm tightly. Pulling her ever closer, and making her feel slightly off balance and off kilter, not only by his nearness, but because she was almost in his lap, he whispered in her ear, "When you're in the final throes of passion, and you're about to come undone from the desire of it all, do you close your eyes, or leave them open?"

Hermione swallowed hard. She turned her head slowly to look at him. She didn't know what to say. It wasn't as if he asked the question in a crude manner, but still, she couldn't believe he would ask her such a thing, yet she found the fact that he wanted to know these things about her highly intoxicating.

Her mouth opened a fraction, and she ruminated an answer in her head. Words were about to come to the surface when the doors flew open. It was Theo. "Malfoy, Granger, do you two mind if I leave now? Astoria is looking for Gretchen, and I would rather there not be a scene, and if she tries to see our daughter, I'll hex her and there will definitely be a scene."

Hermione stood up to face him, as did Draco. "Are you afraid she'll say something to upset Gretchen?" Hermione asked.

Theo nodded. "She's a horrid mother, Granger. You've shown my daughter more kindness in the space of the last few hours than her mother has in ten years. Seriously, do you mind if we take off?"

"No, tell Gretchen that I loved meeting her today, and I'll take her on a private tour very soon. Draco will arrange a time for all three of us, won't you, Draco?" Hermione looked at him pleadingly.

Draco liked that Hermione included him in her plans. He liked that she was being so kind to his goddaughter, who meant the world to him. He also liked the fact that Hermione called Astoria a bitch. Wait, she didn't do that. He had merely thought that to himself.

Theo and Draco said goodbye before Theo left with his daughter. As Hermione and Draco made their way back down stairs, Hermione said, "I can't believe Adrian is dating a woman who would have nothing to do with her own daughter. That's the reason we broke up, because he wanted children right away, and I didn't think I had time for them, because I had just started here at the museum. Of course, we broke up years ago, so perhaps he's changed. Still, I wonder what he sees in Astoria."

"Who knows and who cares. I don't want to spend our first date talking about our ex's," Draco said sincerely.

Hermione huffed in anger at that statement and steered Draco toward a round table at the front of the lobby. "No, you'd rather talk about freckles."

"And coming. Don't forget that, and you still need to answer that burning question yet, Granger. Perhaps you can just show me later," he said with a grin.

She pinched his arm, hard, and he winced. "We should find our seat and have something to eat before the presentation," she said in return.

Draco pulled out a chair for her before he sat down. "What presentation?" He flipped his cloth napkin and placed it on his lap.

"You got my letter about tonight, didn't you? Granted, I didn't know I was sending it to you, I just thought I was sending it to the new owner. If I had known that was you, I might not have planned such an elaborate presentation for later, but still, it's all planned," she explained. She sighed when she realized that the buffet table was on the other side of the room, hence the food was also way over there. "Draco, will you go over to the buffet table and get us some food?" she asked.

"No," he said, pouting. "Tell me about this phantom letter you're pretending you sent me, and about this sodding presentation. If I had known you had planned more than just an open house, I wouldn't have come tonight." He folded his arms in front of him and frowned.

She turned on her chair. "Nice to know that you wouldn't have attended the banquet that was being held in your honour, Malfoy, if you had known about the presentation! Nice to know that you wouldn't have asked me out on this date, if you had known about the presentation! I sent a real letter, over a month ago. It outlined the fact that Michael was going to speak first, informing everyone about the new exhibitions, then I'm speaking second, and I'll thank several of the people who have helped us with monetary gifts over the years, and the people who have loaned us artwork and artifacts, and then I'll present you, and you'll give your speech. After your speech, Michael and I will break the crowd into two groups and we'll take everyone to the big new exhibition on the third floor."

"When do you and I get time together?" he complained. "This is a date, but it sounds like you have everything planned down to the minute! It sounds like work!"

"Well, Malfoy," she began, "it is work, for me and now for you. This is what it is. This wasn't supposed to be a date, remember. It's an open house, to show off the changes to the museum and to present you to the public as the new owner, and to thank the dignitaries who have helped us over the years. I've worked hard on this banquet, and on the new exhibitions, and the museum. I'm proud of it. I want to show it off, and I'm sorry if all of that ruins your date."

She placed her napkin on her plate and started to stand. He reached for her arm, keeping her in her seat. "You're right," she continued, "we may not have much time for an actual date tonight, but that wasn't the purpose of tonight."

"IT WAS FOR ME, and let me remind you that it's OUR date not just MY date, Granger!" he practically shouted. People turned to look at them. "I don't have plans to give a speech; I don't want you to give a presentation, present me, or any such rubbish. I want some time with you and that's all, or I'm leaving!" He turned away from her and suddenly said, "SOD IT ALL!" Harry Potter of all people was coming toward them. Potter was the last person Draco wanted to see on HIS date with HER!

Hermione looked toward Harry, then toward Draco. The problem was, Draco was gone, just like that.

"Malfoy?" she asked. Hermione felt something tickle her leg. Goodness, it was Draco Malfoy! He was under the table. She moved aside the long, white tablecloth and stuck her head under the table to look at him.

"What are you doing under there?" she demanded.

"Would you believe I'm hiding from someone?" he joked.

"NO!" she hissed in a loud whisper.

"Would you believe I dropped my wallet?" he asked. His hand went slowly up her leg. She kicked at him with her foot, but he took a hold of that with his other hand.

"GET OUT OF THERE!" she whispered louder. She sat up and looked around, then ducked back down. "Please!"

"Would you believe that I want to do this?" he asked.

She gasped loudly at the next thing he did. She was about to hex him with her wand when Harry Potter walked up to the front of her table and to say hello. She stared at him in horror, and then she moaned in a bit of pleasure and tried to cause Draco a lot of pain by kicking him with her foot.

His hand was on her knee, his fingers under her knee, this thumb rubbing the top. His lips were on the outside of her leg. HE WAS KISSING HER KNEE! Hermione looked at Harry and groaned slightly before she said, "Harry, nice to see you here, Harry, will you go get me something to eat at the buffet table, Harry? I hurt my foot earlier, you see, Harry." She held her plate up to him.

"Nice to see you, too, HERMIONE," he said her name exaggerated, since she repeated his name several times, before he left to get her food. She repeated Harry's name so Draco would know that Harry was standing before them, and perhaps he would stop whatever it was he was doing to her…wait, was he raining kisses on her calf now? Heaven help her.

Hermione pulled her leg from his grasp and scooted her chair against the wall. "Draco Malfoy, get out from under there!" she chastised.

Draco got up on his knees, and smiled. Then he frowned when he heard a man laugh before them say, "Yes, Draco Malfoy, get up from there." Hermione pivoted in her seat…Draco hurried to stand…both of them turned to face Adrian Pucey, and he wasn't alone. He was holding the hand of Astoria Greengrass.

"Do you have time for this shite, Granger?" Draco asked her with an air of disgust, pointing toward the unwelcome pair in front of them. He sat beside her, took a swig of champagne from someone else's glass, and then handed it to her, forgetting that she had said earlier that she hated champagne.

She swallowed the rest of it down in one swig.

* * *

_Coming up:_

"_I thought I might find you up here," he said lightly._

_"That'__s a beautiful painting," she answered, staring up at a painting on his wall. "I can't believe you have this hidden away in your office. This is a genuine article, Malfoy. It should be shared. We should have it on display somewhere where everyone can enjoy it."_

_He stood behind her, placed his chin on her shoulder, and said, "Are we talking about paintings now? Take it if you want it badly enough."_

_She looked at him. His eyes were so brilliant, so bright, and so silver. His face, so close. She said, "You'd let me put this where everyone can see it? Perhaps build a display around it, in the main room off the lobby?"_

_He reached around her, one hand on her stomach. "I meant you should take it. I'm giving it to you."_

_She turned in his arms.__"What?__"__ She hit his chest. She started laughing and said, "You're so funny!"__I want you to have it. I want you to have everything and anything. Nothing's too good for you. Do you understand?"_

"I'm serious.


	9. Nine o'clock pm

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 9: 9 o'clock and it's Time for a Speech**

"Malfoy, get out from under there!" Hermione looked under the table at Draco Malfoy. He was making a spectacle of himself! He was making a laughingstock of this whole night! No one would take this museum seriously now, or her job here, if he kept acting like a loon, hiding under tables, telling people they were dating, and other such nonsense!

Frankly…this was more than she could handle. And also, it was perhaps one of the best nights she had had in a very, long, long time!

Draco got up on his knees, and smiled. Even though Hermione was 'pretending' to rebuke him to get him out from under the table, (seriously, what was he thinking?) he wasn't really hiding from Potter. True, he didn't want to see the man. Who would, with his glasses and scar? But the reason he got under the table in the first place was actually to needle Hermione, and make her smile, and he succeeded. She took everything too seriously and literal. She claimed she didn't have time for things like this…dating, having fun, smiling. But, she needed to smile more. She needed some happiness. He needed to give it to her.

He started out from under the table, a smile still on his face, but his smile turned to a frown when he heard a former friend of his laugh and say, "Yes, Draco Malfoy, get up from there." Hermione pivoted in her seat…Draco hurried to stand…both of them turned to face Adrian Pucey, and he wasn't alone. He was holding the hand of Astoria Greengrass.

"Do you have time for this shite, Granger?" Draco asked her with an air of disgust, pointing toward the unwelcome pair in front of them. He sat beside her, took a swig of champagne from someone else's glass, and then handed it to her, forgetting that she had said earlier that she hated champagne.

She swallowed the rest of it down in one swig.

Adrian reached over, in an all too familiar way in Draco's opinion, and took the glass from Hermione. "Drinking now, Hermione? Draco would drive anyone to drink. It must be hard to have him here at your museum, bossing you around, telling you what to do, making demands and all."

Draco held his anger at bay. Hermione looked slightly hurt though, which made Draco angrier. Hermione said, "Well, Adrian, it's good to see you, too, and it is Draco's museum now, so he has every right to be here."

"Sorry, sweetheart," Adrian said.

Draco wanted to vomit. SWEETHEART? That was his name for her! Adrian leaned down and kissed her cheek. The bile seriously rose in Draco's throat. Adrian said, "I know you still consider it your museum, but I also know Malfoy better than you. He'll run this place into the ground, and when he's bored with it all, you'll have to salvage the pieces and start from scratch again, and let's admit it, you've barely got it off the ground the last time. Not an envious task, I say."

"HEY!" Hermione and Draco said at the same time. They both reached for the empty champagne glass. When they saw it was empty, Draco snapped at a waiter, drew his attention to them immediately, took two glasses, handed one to her, took the other, and took a long drink.

Hermione did the same. She couldn't bear to see Adrian again. He brought up all the old feelings of inadequacies that he used to always bring forth, and she hated that. She wasn't that person any longer. She was strong, competent, and good at her job, and no matter what, even if Draco did own this place now, it was still HER MUSEUM!

She wanted to tell him so, but before she could, Draco said, "I wouldn't have bought this place if it wasn't worth the money. You know I don't throw my money away, Pucey. Granger's done a wonderful job with _her_ _museum_ and I see no reason why she won't continue to do a wonderful job."

She smiled at Draco. He called it _her museum_! That meant more to her than anything, even if technically it was all semantics and not really true.

Astoria laughed and held on to Adrian's arm for dear life. "I don't have to work for a living. Adrian takes very good care of me."

Hermione grimaced. Draco blanched and said, "Well, here's hoping Hermione takes very good care of me, too." He held up a glass, said, "Salute," and took another swig. Hermione laughed again, clanged her glass to Draco, smiled, and they both took another drink.

Adrian reached for Hermione's flute and placed the glass on the table and said, "Well, she seems to be off to a good start. She's making you look bloody fabulous tonight, Malfoy. This place looks amazing tonight, Hermione, and I saw the Hogwarts display. It's good to see my money put to such wonderful use." He held out his hand toward her. "Will you accept a handshake as an apology if I said anything untold?"

Hermione stood, took his hand and shook it. "Yes, of course, and thank you for your large donation. You knew I always wanted to do an exhibition about the founders, and your donation was the building stone for that, so I appreciate it. I'm glad you liked it."

Draco reached up and drew Hermione's hand from Adrian's. "How much was his donation?"

Hermione reached across the table, handed Draco a piece of parchment, and said, "It's listed here on this placard. Everyone who donated is going to have their names listed on a plaque in the main lobby here. I plan to announce the names during my speech later, after Michael's speech, and before yours."

Astoria stood across from Draco, looked down at the card, and asked, "Where's your name, Draco? Didn't you give a donation to the museum?"

He gave her a skeptical look, which Hermione and even Adrian shared. "Darling," Adrian began, "Draco bought this museum. He owns the whole damn thing now, so from now on, he'll fund all of the future exhibitions, I'm sure. Unless, of course," the man looked at Hermione, not Draco, "you'll still seek private donations, too. If so, I have a cheque here I would like to present to you tonight, to help maintain the Hogwarts display."

"Oh, Adrian," Hermione stammered. She looked at Draco, who was still frowning. Actually, he looked as if he had tasted something bad, or eaten a bug. She added, "Of course we'll accept contributions and donations. Museums couldn't function without them."

Draco proclaimed, "We will no longer seek private donations from you, however. How much was your paltry donation to the little Hogwarts wing?"

"Paltry?" Adrian laughed. "It was ten-thousand galleons, Malfoy."

"Mere pocket change for me," he snapped truthfully. "I'll see you have it returned to you by Monday morning."

Hermione frowned and turned to Draco. Adrian didn't look happy either. He offered, "Listen here, old man. I don't know what's wrong with you. We've always been friends. And Hermione and I have a history, shall we say, and when the museum was struggling, I was more than happy to give her a sizable donation. When I learned you'd bought the place, I was concerned at first, and rightly so. What's your intent? What are you doing here, seriously? You're not here to mess with Hermione are you? And why were you under the table?"

"What's it to you?" Draco prodded. "Not that it's your business, but Hermione and I are on date tonight. I'm her escort for this thing." He turned slightly to Hermione, who opened her mouth to protest, and he added, "Before you get your wand in a tizzy, remember, I'm allowed to tell people that, Granger. I'm not making it more than it is, okay?"

Hermione huffed, sat down, and took another large drink of champagne. She really did hate this stuff, but it was starting to go down rather nicely.

Draco took another swig of champagne as well, picked up the list of contributors, and laughed. "I'll be returning money to a lot of people on this list. Everyone I can't stand. Potter, Pucey, oh Merlin, do not tell me that Victor Krum gave you a donation!" He balled the list and threw it at Hermione. It bounced off her champagne flute and landed on the table.

"As to my intent with Granger and with buying this museum, I admit I have no long term goals in sight. Right now, I think I'd like to go back under the table and grope her some more. Go find a seat with your girlfriend, Pucey, and don't question things you have no right to question."

Michael walked up to the quartet and said, "Hermione, it's time for the speeches. Should I start?"

"I don't know at this point. Draco wants to give everyone's money back to them, and do nothing more than sit under the table and grope me. I feel slightly dizzy from all the champagne and I admit that my foot hurts again." She sat down and took another drink.

"Hermione?" Michael beseeched again.

She shrugged. "I'm confused right now, and that rarely happens to me. I think I drank too much champagne," Hermione said with a sigh. "Besides, even though he proclaimed it was my museum, apparently it's Draco's museum. Ask him." At this, Adrian snorted.

"Draco, should we start? Should we even mention the contributions, if you really intend to give everyone their money back?" Michael asked.

Draco didn't answer right away. Instead, he lifted the white table cloth and looked back under the table. Hermione swatted his hand and said, "Go give your speech, Michael. Draco, stop trying to get under the table, it's silly, and you have to give a speech in a moment, too!"

"I won't do it!" Draco hissed. "You can't make me!"

"I can if this is my museum!" she countered, almost whining. Finely, she settled back in her seat and said, "Michael, do whatever you want."

"Malfoy?" he asked again, uncertain as to what in the world was happening.

"Why ask me, this isn't my museum, because I can't even go under the table or tell people I'm on a date! I don't even want you to give an effing speech!" he snapped. He looked at Astoria and Adrian as they remained standing in front of them and quizzed, "Why are you two still standing here?"

"Before we sit, I wanted to ask you if you've seen Theo tonight," Astoria asked, leaning closer to Draco. "I was hoping he would have Gretchen here tonight."

"Why?" Draco barked, standing up, fists on the table, leaning closer to the pair. "Have you forgotten their address? They live in the same house they've lived in since you gave birth to her. If you want to see her sometime, I suggest you send an Owl or Floo there." He sat down, held up his hand, motioned to Michael, and said, "Get started on the speeches, Corner."

Michael looked at Hermione for approval. At this point, she wasn't sure she cared what happened. She stood up, handed her speech to Michael, told him to give it as well, and she walked out of the lobby, refusing to look at any of them. They all disgusted her at this point. Plus, she was tipsy.

Almost an hour later, well past nine o'clock, Draco walked up to his office and opened the door. Hermione was leaning against a chair, her arms on the back of it, staring intently at a painting of a girl, sitting alone in blue chair, a wilting white flower in her hand, the petals falling all around her on the floor.

"I thought I might find you up here," he said lightly.

"That's a beautiful painting," she answered, staring up at a painting on his wall. "I can't believe you have this hidden away in your office. This is a genuine article, Malfoy. It should be shared. We should have it on display somewhere where everyone can enjoy it."

He stood behind her, placed his chin on her shoulder, and said, "Are we talking about paintings now? Take it if you want it badly enough."

She looked up at him. His eyes were so brilliant, so bright, and so silver. His face, so close. She said, "You'd let me put this where everyone can see it? Perhaps build a display around it, in the main room off the lobby?"

He reached around her, one hand on her stomach. "I meant you should take it. I'm giving it to you."

She turned in his arms. "What?" She hit his chest. She started laughing and said, "You're so funny!"

"I'm serious. I want you to have it. I want you to have everything and anything. Nothing's too good for you. Do you understand?"

"Oh, no, I don't think I do," she said slowly. She seriously didn't know what he was trying to say to her, but she wanted to find out. "A famous Muggle artist painted this, Malfoy."

"I know, I'm smart, too," he said with a smile. She stared up at his face, cupped his cheek and smiled. She sank in the chair beside her. He sat on the arm, took her hand. "I bought that painting years ago, in Paris. I saw it and thought of you. The girl reminds me of you. She's on the outside of the bistro, sitting in a blue chair all alone, looking in, and she seems sad. She wants to belong. The wilting white flower in her hand, oddly enough, reminds me of me."

She almost laughed, but saw that he was serious. "I think that's a bit morose."

"Whatever," he said with a shrug. He stood, pulled her to her feet, but then stole her seat. He pulled her down on his lap. She placed her head in the crook of his neck. She felt oddly safe in his arms. "The speeches went well. Corner's good with the public. Everyone laughed at my little speech."

"Really? Did anyone give my speech?" she asked.

"Corner handled it," he informed her. "The tours are starting, too, but no one would dare come up here, so we're alone for a while."

She nodded. With one arm he tucked her closer to his side. She could love him so easily. She even found that she wanted to love him. What would she lose if she surrendered to him? She would lose her freedom. She would lose her free time, of which she had precious little. She might even lose her sanity.

But deep in her heart she knew he had the ability to make her indescribably happy. He also had the power to completely devastate her. She had never allowed a man that much power before…to do either…give her complete happiness, or complete ruin. It was a daunting thought. She clung to the thin veil of optimism that perhaps this really was just a lark for him. Perhaps this was a one time date. He would get his fill of her tonight, and then he would go on his merry way. She could continue to pretend that she didn't have time for romance, if she knew that he wasn't serious about any of this.

Suddenly he said, "I bought this place for you, you know. When I said it was your museum, I meant it sincerely."

That admission shocked her. It also brought her out of her musings, and it threw her theories about him all to hell! She wasn't certain she believed it. Why would he? "You acted annoyed by me earlier, when you first arrived today, and now you want me to believe you bought the museum for me?"

He only nodded. "I was annoyed by you when I first arrived because you were annoyed by me. I was also trying desperately to avoid the real reason I did this. I couldn't admit the true reason, until now. I mean, I shouldn't even like you, right?"

She laughed deep in her throat. She looked at his face, and drew her fingers down his cheek. "Tell me why you shouldn't like me."

"Seriously," he said, "You of all people should know this. I spent most of my childhood hating you, being aggravated at you, and you at me. Acting like a tosser toward you was my favourite pastime. I couldn't stand the sight of you most of the time, yet I found I would think about you all the time."

"All the time?" she asked, smiling still.

"All the time," he repeated. "Night time, day time, all the time. When I heard from friends and acquaintances that your museum was having trouble, I jokingly told them that I should buy it just to hassle you. In my heart, I knew I wanted to buy it, to give to you. Why? I don't know."

"Don't you?" she asked.

Again, her fingers went lightly down his face. The feel was exquisite. It made him feel alive. It gave him courage. "I might have wanted to make up for all the pain I caused you growing up, or maybe I wanted to show you that I had changed," he said. He stilled her hand, pulling it from his face, to hold in his. "Or perhaps, just perhaps, I did it for myself." He gave her his world famous smirk.

"That would be more likely," she agreed. "Perhaps there was even another reason?"

His gaze fell to her lips. He said nothing to her last statement. Instead, he moved his index finger slowly around her lips twice, then in a swift moment her moved his head to hers, and swept his tongue across her lips. She clung to his shoulders. He moved away and said, "I have a question, are you drunk?"

"Why? Are you unwilling to kiss me if I'm drunk?"

"Oh no, I'm more likely to kiss you if you're pissed," he said seriously, "I was also thinking that if you were drunk, you might have sex with me."

She gave his face a playful slap, stood, grabbed his hand and said, "I'm not that drunk. Let's get to know each other a bit better. Follow me to my favourite exhibition, and we'll sit down and have a chat and get to know each other better. Then, you can tell me why you really bought this museum."

* * *

_Coming up:_

"_Climb on up," she said._

"_Will it hold both of us?" he asked. He watched as she scrambled on top of the shiny display case. She had to hitch up her skirt first, to get up. Her bum swayed nicely as she hoisted herself up there. He smiled. _

_She looked behind her shoulder and laughed. "Are you looking at my bottom end?"_

_He laughed back at her. "No, I'm looking at your amazing ass. Bottom end, indeed." He placed an enforcement charm on the legs of the display and climbed up beside her. She hiked up her skirt even more, sat cross legged, and placed her hand in front of her. He did the same._

_Then she grabbed his left wrist suddenly with her right hand. Her thumb pressed on his pulse point and she exclaimed, "Okay, we shall ask each other questions, and only the truth is allowed, Malfoy. If you lie, your pulse will give you away."_

"_Fine, but remember, it's a two way street, sweetheart." He reached over and placed his right hand on her throat, his fingers on her collarbone, and his thumb on her pulse point. "Ask away."_


	10. Ten o'clock pm

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 10: It's ****10 o'clock**** and it's Time for Some Answers:**

Hand-in-hand, Hermione and Draco walked through the crowd of people who were milling around the hallways and exhibition rooms of the museum. She had to stop and talk to a few people along the way, make nice, chit-chat, but as quickly as she could, she towed Draco through the crowd, up to the top floor, to a plain brown door which was locked, with a sign that read: _Closed for repairs_.

"After you," she offered, opening the door with her wand. Draco walked into the completely dark room, felt her walk in behind him, and then heard her close the door. They were standing in solid, pitch blackness.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"One moment," she said. "Wait for it."

"What?" he asked. She reached for his hand again and gave it a little squeeze. For some reason he felt extremely safe near her. He thought that was odd, that HE should feel SAFE with HER, but he did.

Soon, the ceiling lit up with 'stars'. A constellation shined brightly in the corner of the large, cavernous room. He heard Hermione move beside him. He turned to look at her. There was barely enough light from the 'mock' constellation to make out her pretty face. She pointed with her free hand and said, "What constellation is that, Malfoy?"

"Um…Ursa Major?" he asked, back, unsure.

He felt, rather than saw, her smile. She pulled on his sleeve and said, "My, I love a smart man. Yes, yes it is. Now, if that's Ursa Major up there, what do we commonly call those stars?"

He was a bit too giddy from her phrase, "_I love a smart man_" to answer right away. He grabbed for her head, brought it up to his mouth for a swift kiss and only then did he say, "The big dipper, sweetheart." He placed her body in front of his, her back to his chest, kept her hand, and with her hand still in his, pointed their joined hands toward another part of the ceiling and said, "There are five major constellations visible in this sky, Granger. I see Ursa Minor, Ursa Major, Cassiopeia, Cepheus and the most important one of them all, Draco."

Each of the other constellations lit up brightly as he mentioned them. She moved so that she was facing him. He still had her hand. That was very important to him. She explained, "When I was little we went to a planetarium once. It was an enormous building with a domed ceiling onto which movable images of the stars, planets, and the constellations, along with other objects seen in the night sky, were projected for the audience overhead. Then this massive voiced boomed from nowhere to explain how the earth was created, and it told what each planet was called, the name of each constellation and the stars in the constellation, and so forth."

He couldn't help himself - he pulled her toward him and gave her another quick kiss. He kept his arms around her, slung low on her back. Her hands were placed lightly on his chest. "Tell me more, Granger."

"I was fascinated by it all. I was seven years old, and it seemed magical to me. I wanted to create something like that for children here. I wanted to make this whole top floor be an interactive children's museum. We already have the butterfly garden. I want to have a rain forest. I want to finish this planetarium. I have so many plans."

Even though the room was mostly dark, save for the light coming from the stars above, he could see the exuberance in her face, and he thought at that very moment how much he actually loved her.

HE LOVED HER! One day together, and he loved her. If he admitted it to her she would tell him to sod off, or call him a liar, but it was the unadulterated truth.

Without another word between them, she took his hand and pulled him through another door, leaving the dark, domed room behind. This next room had a miniature Hogwarts and Hogmeade under a glass display case in the middle of the room. On the walls were painted murals with scenes of dragons, Quidditch games, the forbidden forest and more. Banners with all four Hogwarts house colours hung from the four corners of the large room.

In one corner, on a stool, was a replica of the sorting hat.

He placed his hands on the massive glass display case and looked down at the miniature castle in awe.

"You're amazing," he said, because he felt it so strongly. "This is brilliant!"

She smiled a small, endearing smile and blushed just a bit. She said, "Oh, well, I had tons of help. I'm just passionate about my work. It's all I have right now. You see, I really am very busy, and I really don't have time for anything else."

"What a bunch of hogwash," he moaned. "Listen, you could make time for romance and love if you really wanted to, you just prefer not to. You know, I was serious when I said I bought this for you. This museum, I mean. It's important to you, I see that more than ever, and I know that you need time for it. I wouldn't take you away from it, but Granger, I want you to give me some time, too."

"Malfoy, please, stop saying that you bought this place for me. I merely work here. You bought it for yourself," she contradicted. "And about having time for you, I have to admit I've had a nice day today, but truthfully, if Michael wasn't here to finish everything for tonight, I don't know what would have happened. You took me away from all my work. I didn't have time for anything else. I refuse to give up my passion for a man."

There are all sorts of passion," he argued. "And I really did buy this place for you, in many ways. I bought it to be close to you. I bought it because it's important to you and you would have been heartbroken if it had floundered, and the most important reason, and the one I wasn't going to say because you'll tell me I'm bonkers, is that I bought it because I think I love you." He gave her a sheepish smile.

"You don't love me." She frowned a bit. "Besides, how can I trust anything you say or do? You spend half your life lying, and the other half irritating me."

Now he frowned. That statement actually hurt his feelings. She might not think he had feelings, but he did. She also might think he was unable to be truthful, but she would be wrong on that account, too. "I wish you could see that I'm telling you the truth," he bemoaned.

She wanted to ignore that statement, so she looked back down at the display case, her hands on the smooth glass. She could feel his indignation roll off him like steam so she conceded, "I wish I could tell if you were telling the truth, too."

They were both quiet for an awkward amount of time. She was at one end of the glass display case, and he was at the other. Finally, to break the silence, she said, "So…Malfoy…will you be working every day here with us, because if so, I think you should work with us on this project. Lend us your expertise with this exhibition, and all. This is still a work in progress, and you're an expert of Hogwarts, right? I want this to be geared toward primary school age children, to give them a taste of what Hogwarts is like, before they go there. We haven't done much in here yet, except for this miniature under glass and the murals on the walls."

He glared at her, giving her a hard stare. "Are we seriously discussing my work assignments? I told you I loved you. You called me a liar. Now you want me to help you with your little Hogwarts display. Sure, whatever, Granger. I'll do whatever you want."

She could tell he seemed angry. She walked over to him and pointed to the castle and said, "If you look closely, you can see little people in the castle. I bet we could find a little Draco Malfoy, running amuck, creating all sorts of problems."

"Yeah, he's probably lying to everyone, telling them that he loves them, when it's clear that he doesn't know how to love," he said sarcastically.

Hermione could tell that she had hurt him, and she felt terrible for it. She placed a hand on his arm. He shrugged it off. "You know, maybe there is a way to find out if you're lying or not," she said off handed. She turned her attention back to the castle under the glass.

He watched her closely and a smile crept on his face. "Is there a little Hermione Granger running around in there telling everyone what she's smarter than everyone else, and that she doesn't have time for them?" he asked. He pressed his nose right to the glass to look in the 'window' of one of the tower windows.

She leaned her shoulder next to him and pointed toward one of the castle's towers. "That's Ravenclaw tower. Over there is Gryffindor tower."

He leaned over, his nose pressing on the case against the other tower. "Is there a naked Hermione Granger dressing in there?"

"Don't be bad." She swatted his arm.

"But it's what I do best, along with lying and debauchery," he said, arms folded in front of him.

"Debauchery?" she asked one eyebrow in the air. She laughed and said, "Climb on up."

"Will it hold both of us?" he asked. He watched as she scrambled on top of the shiny display case. She had to hitch up her skirt first, to get up. Her bum swayed nicely as she hoisted herself up there. He smiled.

She looked behind her shoulder and laughed. "Are you looking at my bottom end?"

He laughed back at her. "No, I'm looking at your amazing ass. Bottom end, indeed." He placed an enforcement charm on the legs of the display and climbed up beside her. She hiked up her skirt even more, sat cross legged, and placed her hand in front of her. He did the same.

Then she grabbed his left wrist suddenly with her right hand. Her thumb pressed on his pulse point and she exclaimed, "Okay, we shall ask each other questions, and only the truth is allowed, Malfoy. If you lie, your pulse will give you away."

"Fine, but remember, it's a two way street, sweetheart." He reached over and placed his right hand on her throat, his fingers on her collarbone, and his thumb on her pulse point. "Ask away."

They sat across from each other, his hand lightly on the pulse on her throat, her hand wrapped around his wrist. She asked, "What's your favourite time of day?"

A smile slowly crept into his eyes. She wasn't playing fair. She was asking foolish questions, but something told him there was a method to her madness. The air around them was thick and heavy with their shared feelings of want and desire, and now, longing.

He said, "I like the night. What can I say? I love when darkness takes over, and light leaves the earth, and everything slows down, and becomes lazy. Everything takes on a sexy, sensual air. People do things at night that they normally would never do. They feel safe under the guise of darkness. I know I do, and I bet you do, too."

"What am I going to do under the guise of darkness that you think I wouldn't do in the light of day, Malfoy?" she asked softly, and dare he think, sensually.

He moved his hand slowly down her throat. He placed it over her heart, on bare skin, above her left breast, over her cleavage. "Wait and find out, Granger. My turn and I'll ask you the same question. What's your favourite time of day?"

"Morning," she answered quickly. "I love when the dawn is still hanging heavy in the sky, and there's a pink and yellow haze about the earth, and there's still a fine layer of dew on the grass. Birds sing, and everything's waking up, and it all feels brand new and fresh and innocent." She moved her hand from around his wrist to wrap her fingers in his. "See, we aren't compatible at all. We don't even like the same time of day."

"I like nighttime, you like morning, so? We can make love every afternoon." He moved his hand slowly, very slowly, with a languid movement that took every ounce of his control, from her chest, down her arm, and he grabbed her other hand. They were facing now, holding hands, on top of the display case. "Ask your next question."

"If you had time to do one thing in your life, that you've never had time to do before, what would it be?" she inquired.

"I would travel, really, really travel. I would start off in Rome, or Greece, you know, the birthplace of civilization. I would find out all the secrets to life. I would study every culture and every language and every country that I've ever been fascinated with, or read about."

She looked pensively at him and said, "You're rich as Croesus, Malfoy. You could travel and do all of that if you really wanted to. It sounds like a dream. I'd do it, if I had the time and money to do so. Do it while you can, while you're young."

"Right, and while I'm alone. No thank you. Money and time are not the issues here, Granger." He let go of her hands, and went over on his side, so that he was lying down, his head propped up on his elbow. "I wouldn't dream of doing something like that by myself. What would be the point, if I wouldn't have anyone with whom to share it? It's sort of like your little museum here. Would you be so passionate about all these displays and exhibitions if you knew you were the only one who was going to see them? Aren't they twice as special because you share them with other people?"

She thought that his eyes held a truth and directness that she had never seen in them before. She had known him for most her life, but she had never seen him being more honest or forthcoming. Perhaps he was honest about many other things tonight.

He noticed that she was holding the material of her skirt tightly in both fists. She was no longer looking at his face; rather, she was looking down at her lap. He moved quickly so that he was sitting back in front of her, and he placed a finger under her chin, to tilt her head upwards.

She was crying. Not openly, or loudly, but tears were creeping down her cheeks, from her beautiful, brown eyes.

No bother. He wouldn't remark on that. Instead, he said, "You owe me another answer. My question, Granger, is simple. What's your one biggest regret? What's the one thing that you would go back and change in your life, if you could, or if it isn't something that has happened yet, what's the one thing that you would make happen, above all others?"

She scrambled from the top of the glass case and ran from the room without answering.

_Coming up – The second to the last chapter_

_"Perhaps you're just afraid," he said._

_"Afraid?"_

_"Yes," he confirmed. "The bravest woman I've ever met is afraid of falling in love. What do you say to that, Granger?"_


	11. Eleven o'clock pm

**All characters belong to JKR **

**Chapter 11 – Eleven o'clock and it's Time to Prove Something**

Draco looked at the woman sitting in front of him and stated, "You owe me another answer. My question, Granger, is simple. What's your one biggest regret? What's the one thing that you would go back and change in your life, if you could, or if it isn't something that has happened yet, what's the one thing that you would make happen, above all others?"

Shocking him, she scrambled from the top of the glass case and ran from the room without answering. He sat alone on top of the display case and frowned. He sighed as he slid along the cold glass to hop down to the floor. He went in search of her, and he didn't have to go far. She was in a dark, and what appeared to be empty, room. Well, empty save for two things…Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy.

"And what's this room's purpose?" he asked. It wasn't nearly as large as the planetarium. It wasn't even as large as the Hogwarts room. Having been in the butterfly garden with Gretchen earlier that day, he knew that space took up one half of the other side of the building. This room was positively small compared to those three.

"This room is a reflecting room," she answered. "You see the pool of water right before us? Well, when the lever is turned on, the waterfall starts, and water cascades down from the ceiling, over the stone wall, and into the pool here at our feet. The water ripples from the wall and comes down to the floor, and you see how it looks as if the water's edge is right next to the floor? It will seem like it has no edge, because the water will disappear down a small seam, or slit in the floor. It's called an endless waterfall affect. It's not part of the children's museum. It will be used for employees as a place to come for refuge, respite, and reflection."

He repeated those three words in his mind: _refuge, respire and reflection_. "Is that why you came in here?" he asked. He felt anger toward her suddenly. Why couldn't she just accept that he loved her and be happy, for goodness sakes? Why did she have to run away? Why couldn't she answer his bloody question? Maybe she would answer a new question. He asked, "Do you need refuge from me?"

She turned toward him. Shaking her head no she said, "Oh, no. I'm not really running away from you."

"Do you need respite from the activities down below, or the ones here above?" he asked, trying to sound flippant. He walked around her.

"Perhaps," she returned. She moved to the side of the room to turn the lever. The water started to fall evenly across the ceiling, down the brown and beige smooth stones that made up the wall before them. The water sparkled, because floodlights had come on as soon as the water started. The water hit the pool in front of them, splashing, spraying them lightly with small drops. He took a step back and drew her back as well. The water in the pool started to ripple and move, and it appeared to rush toward them over the same smooth stones of the floor, but then it disappeared, as if by magic. In reality, it disappeared down a small, open seam in the floor.

He asked, "Perhaps you needed to reflect on the heavy state of your heart, and the importance of answering me truthfully, and I can see how you would want to do it in here. Why are you so afraid of love, Hermione Granger? It's odd, isn't it, that you should be so afraid, and someone like me, a renowned coward, should be so brave, when we're both facing the same thing." Draco was no longer looking at her. He wasn't even speaking TO her any longer, but he continued to talk. "Someone cynical like me, I can see them being afraid to open their hearts to love. But you, you've been surrounded by people who have loved you your whole life. You know how to receive love, and return it in exchange. Why should you be so afraid?"

He started to walk around her. She followed him with her eyes. "I either had to bully or buy my friends. They didn't even like me, let alone love me. My parents might have loved me, perhaps. They never said it, and they had odd ways of showing it. Buying things for me and ingraining hatred into my brain for twenty odd years isn't love as far as I'm concerned, but who am I to judge them?" He shrugged. He was once again standing in front of her. "My fiancée was assigned to me, if you will. She loved my money and the thought of having my money. She had no feelings for me. Thank goodness I returned her hatred.

"Did your parents love you, Granger?" He reached out and let the backside of his knuckles skim down her bare arm. She shivered.

"Yes, they did. I mean, they do," she stammered.

"Do your friends love you?"

"Of course."

"Do you love them in return? Your parents, your friends?" he asked. He was speaking softly now. His head cocked slightly to an angle, he reached out to stroke the outline of her left breast with the backside of his hand. She allowed it and closed her eyes briefly. He grasped her waist with the same hand, kneading the soft material of her gown with his fingers.

"I love them," she said, through ragged breaths.

"But yet you've never been in love with a man, even though you've been engaged three times, right?"

"I love the men I was to marry," she said defensively.

He shrugged. He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Why didn't you marry at least one of them?"

"Because I wasn't IN love with them!" she defended. "I want to be IN love, is that so wrong?"

"Define 'IN LOVE' Hermione," he requested.

She closed her eyes and refused to answer.

"You can't, and do you want to know why?" he provoked.

"Not particularly, but you're itching to tell me, so go at it," she replied with a small smile that felt forced.

"You aren't waiting to be IN LOVE. That's not why you're not in a relationship. It's not that simple. And it's not because you don't have TIME for a relationship. That's the worst load of drivel I've ever heard in my life. The reason you aren't IN LOVE is because you don't want to be, plain and simple, because you, my dear, are a coward. You're afraid."

"I'M NOT AFRAID!" she bellowed. She turned from him, pulled her wand from a pocket of her long gown, and flicked it toward the corner of the room. With a quiet "_Accio_," a soft pallet that was on a shelf in the corner came toward her. She unrolled the pallet, situated it by the reflecting pool, and sat down. Only then did she repeat, "I'm not afraid."

Draco sat down beside her. He reached over and touched her hair. It was soft and silky and he loved the way it curled around his finger. At the same time she reached over and stroked his bangs.

She said, "I like your hair. It's one of your best qualities."

"How vain," he quipped, "and how true." They both laughed.

She continued, "I think your hair looks good when it's messy and carefree looking." Before he could ask her why, she placed her whole hand in his hair and messed it good, and then she laughed harder.

He still had a tendril of her hair in his hand and he said back, "Men love hair that's long and sexy like this." He turned her toward the reflecting pool. He scooted them both to the edge and said, "Look. It looks like we just made love, with both our hair all messed. Tell me Granger, are we going to make love before the night's over and let this day end the way it should?"

"I only make love when I'm in love, Malfoy," she said tenderly.

He smiled and said, "You wound me, Granger. Perhaps you do love me, have you thought of that, you silly goose? You love a lot of people, apparently, or at least you just admitted as much."

"Perhaps I can't love anyone. Perhaps I don't have time for silly things like love and romance and sex and dates and such," she responded. He could tell it was all an act and that she was placing her walls up higher and higher. He was a good climber, however. He would climb those walls.

"Perhaps you're just afraid," he repeated once more.

"If you say that one more time I'm going to scream!" She moved to the edge of the soft, makeshift bed and folded her arms in front of her.

"Yes," he confirmed, continuing to goad her. "The bravest woman I've ever met is afraid of falling in love. Oh, I don't mean you're afraid of the normal things about love. You're afraid of the loss of identity. You're afraid of the loss of freedom. You're afraid to have someone tell you what to do, or make decisions for you. You're afraid of showing your sensitive side and your vulnerable side, because you've always had to be the strong one in all your relationships.

"You were the strong one with your friends, Tweedle-dee and Tweedel-dum, also known as Weasley and Potter. I suspect you were still the strong one when you were engaged to the dumb one. You were the strong one with your parents, protecting them from the dangers of our world. You were the strong one with Michael, by letting him go and be who he really was meant to be. And you were even the strong one with the wanker, Adrian, because you never let him get truly close enough to hurt you.

"What do you say to that, Granger?"

Hermione reached over to touch his hair again. It was so soft, just as she always thought it would be. With the light of the spotlights dancing across the water in the room, his hair almost appeared to glow silver and white.

She continued to play with his hair, her hand brushing the fringe of bangs from his forehead, her fingers threading through the silky strands. He closed his eyes, leaning back on his arms. His breathing was deep and even. Was he sleeping or merely reflecting? Did she care?

Finally, she whispered, "You were right earlier, Malfoy. Perhaps I'm afraid of love. Perhaps I'm afraid of showing someone that side of me, and of opening myself up to being hurt. It's not because I don't have time for it. It's because I've never found the right person. Perhaps it's because I never thought I would, so to protect my fragile heart, I made it appear to everyone that I didn't want or need love. Secretly, of course, everyone does."

He shocked her by reaching up and stilling her hand. He brought it down and kissed it softly. With his eyes still closed, he spoke, "Perhaps I've known all of this about you, even before you did. Perhaps I decided, just this morning, or maybe a long time ago, that you were the one for me, and I would do anything to have you for my own, even going so far as to buying you a museum.

"You see, Granger, I've been where you are. You know me. I've been a coward most of my life. Love was just another thing to be afraid of for me. But then I decided to face my fears, once and for all, and to chase after the one thing that has evaded me all along, and that my dear, is love, and love my dear, is you." He pulled another strand of her hair, pulling her ever closer to him.

She said, "Speaking of 'perhaps', perhaps you've finally made me realize something."

His head fell over to hide his grin. When he looked back up he asked, "And what, perhaps, would that be, Sweetheart?''

Without hesitation, and with no fear of any kind, she said simply, "I love you. I do. I'm not afraid any longer. What do you have to say in kind?"

He grabbed her, fell to his back, pulled her on to his chest, and said, "Hallelujah, and Amen to that, Granger! Now, I'm going to end this day right, by making love to you, hell or high water."

"But what do you have to say?" she asked, seeming a bit, perhaps, fearful.

He turned her to her back and loomed over her, staring into her eyes before he told her what she was waiting to hear in return.

* * *

_Coming up: Twelve o'clock and its Time for Making Love _

_Draco stared into her eyes. He knew he wasn't a sentimental sort, but he suddenly felt very sentimental and loving, holding her in his arms for the first time, and knowing what was about to occur._

_He brushed his lips across her forehead, his hand on her neck, his thumb on her pulse. It was fast. Did that mean she was telling the truth? Did she want this as much as he did?_

_"I love you, Granger. I thought it was high time I said it right." He really had nothing else to say, except, "Oh, and I'm going to make love to you now."_

_She replied softly, "What if I'm not able to fall in love with you? I really wanted to fall in love before. I really tried. What if I don't know how?"_

* * *

_*Thanks to AlexisRose for taking over Beta duties for this story at the last moment. I appreciate it! One more 'hour' and then the day is done, and so is this story!_


	12. Midnight

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 12: Twelve o'clock and the Day is almost Done**

Okay. The day was almost over. Draco knew that Hermione loved him, even if she was too afraid to admit it, and he loved her in return. He wasn't going to waste this moment, or allow her to over think things. He wasn't going to let her ruin it. He was going to take her up to his office and show her how much he loved her before this day was done. Draco felt a feeling of accomplishment. He hadn't set out to fall in love today. His only goal was to reveal to Granger that he bought the museum, and then perhaps slowly strike up a relationship with her, see where things might lead. He thought it might be fun to irritate her for a while, then perhaps become friends, and then convince her to date him.

He hadn't intended to fall so hard, so fast. He hadn't intended to break her foot either. That one gave him pause and then he silently chuckled to himself. She stood before him, talking, reiterating to him that she wasn't sure it was the right time for this, she had never been in love before, asking him silly things like what is _'in love'_? Nevertheless, all he could do was stare at her, barely listening, and smile because the day was ending as he wanted. Well, except for one thing. He wanted to make love to her. THEN, and only then, would the day end the way it should in his mind.

Oh…and it would be splendid if she would shut up and tell him that she loved him.

They continued to talk about nonsense in his book: about fear of falling in love, and 'perhaps this' and 'perhaps that'. Finally she said, "Speaking of 'perhaps', perhaps you've finally made me realize something."

His head fell over to hide his grin. He stopped his mental musing, decided he had better pay better attention to her, looked back up and asked, "And what, perhaps, would that be, Sweetheart?''

She said simply, "I love you. I do. I'm not afraid any longer. What do you have to say in kind?"

He grabbed her, fell to his back, pulled her on to his chest, and said, "Hallelujah, and Amen to that, Granger! Now, I'm going to end this day right, by making love to you, hell or high water."

"But what do you have to say?" she asked, seeming a bit, perhaps, fearful.

Draco stared into her eyes. He knew he wasn't a sentimental sort, but he suddenly felt very sentimental and loving, holding her in his arms for the first time, and knowing what was about to occur.

He brushed his lips across her forehead, his hand on her neck, his thumb on her pulse. It was fast. Did that mean she was telling the truth? Did she want this as much as he did?

"I love you, Granger. I thought it was high time I said it right." He really had nothing else to say, except, "Oh, and I'm going to make love to you now."

She replied softly, "Even though I know I love you, what if I'm not able to fall _in love _with you? I really wanted to fall in love before, when I was engaged, and I tried really hard, but I never did. What if I don't know how?"

"Then I'll teach you," Draco replied. He grabbed Hermione's hand, stood, pulled her up, and rushed with her to his office. They passed some people on the way, but neither of them acknowledged them. He was a man on a mission. It was his mission to prove to her that he loved her without words, and to teach her that she loved him, and that together they were IN LOVE.

He ushered her inside the doorway, closed and locked his door, then removed his suit jacket. Pushing her toward the couch, she gave him a strange look. Again, he ignored it because he didn't want her to have time to protest what he knew was going to happen. He was going to end this day by making love to the woman that he knew he loved and no one, especially Hermione Granger, was going to ruin that. He took off his tie, threw it on the floor, even as he kicked off his shoes.

Hermione looked at him in shock. She knew she was breathing fast. Was she about to make love to Draco Malfoy after only becoming reacquainted with him twelve hours ago? What did that say about her? About him? About them? Of course, she did just admit to him that she loved him, but she was still worried. Even as he pushed her hard on the chest so that she fell against the couch she wondered: how did someone truly know when he or she was IN LOVE?

He bent down and picked up one of her feet. He removed her sensible little ballerina flat. He lifted her other foot. It was still tender and somewhat sore. He removed that shoe gingerly and then to her utter shock, he rubbed the sole of her foot and then bent low to kiss the arch.

Her belly did a nosedive.

She wasn't participating, but then again, she really was in shock. He stood over her, looked down, and with one smooth motion he reached into her hair and removed the clip that held the front part up. Now all of her hair was down and long. She expelled a jagged breath. This couldn't be real. This wasn't love. Was it?

"Are we sure we're in love?" she asked.

"Shhh…" he hushed, instead of going by impulse and bringing his hands up to her neck to strangle her for being so stupid. She had already told him that she loved him. He said it in return. In his mind, there were no other obstacles to overcome. They were in love, by golly.

He sat beside her on the sofa, pulled her into his arms, and looked deeply into her eyes. Again, he knew he wasn't a sentimental sort, but he suddenly felt very maudlin and loving, holding her in his arms for the first time, and knowing he was about to make love to her finally. He angled them both so that they were now lying on the couch, instead of sitting. She was against the back of the pillows, he against the edge, and they were face-to-face.

She let him move her easily, but replied softly, "I'm not sure about this, Draco. I hate not being sure about things. What if I'm not able to fall in love with you? I've always really wanted to fall in love, but I haven't yet. I can't, and I've really tried. I'm serious when I asked what if I don't know how?"

"Is that the problem?" he asked lightly. "You're afraid that there's something you don't know how to do? Do you really think that you don't know HOW to fall in love?" He laughed and added, "I just really don't know what to say to such crap, except that it's crap."

She smiled and expelled a small laugh, which was more like a puff of air. He sighed and leaned his head down on her shoulder. She stroked his hair and cheek and angled his face so that it was facing toward hers. She touched his face slowly with one finger, his eyes, cheeks, forehead, carefully across his features.

As she touched his face she said, "I need to get an understanding as to why I might love you. I need to be certain. I need to examine all the facts as they are presented to me. I also need to know why you think you might love me. Only after I'm sure, without a doubt, that we really are in love, will I make love with you. Face it; we've spent most of our lives hating each other, yet after a day together, now we think we're in love? That's a bit deranged, and while you've been known to be a bit eccentric, I'm usually very sensible."

"Eccentric?" he asked. "I am many, many things, Sweetheart, but not Loony. Tell me why you think you might love me first. We'll examine that together." He brushed his lips back across her cheeks, took her earlobe in his mouth, and gave it a little nip.

"You're a very handsome man. I suppose I could say that I'm in love with the physical side of you." Hermione touched his eyes, nose, and chin and then moved her mouth to his for a swift kiss, before she drew a finger around the same mouth slowly. He thought he would die with anticipation.

He thought she was beautiful, too. He dreamt of her often. He already had her face memorized, right down to the lowliest freckle. Did he love her only for her looks? No. He realized that the physical was important, but not paramount. He leaned forward and kissed her lips once, pulled back slightly to look at her, then came forward and kissed her again. He said, "Yes, and I love you for your looks as well, but that's not all. And it's right that you should love me for my looks. They are extraordinary."

She giggled and placed her head in the crook of his neck. They didn't have much room on the small couch, and she was up against the back of the sofa, so she moved slightly so that she was partly on top of him. She answered, "And I suppose I love the supercilious side of you."

He frowned slightly, though it was contrived, and said, "Well now that's just wrong. You shouldn't call me something I can't even begin to spell, and I'm only partially aware of its meaning. Although I suppose that just means that I also love you for your brain." He lifted her again, angled himself so that now his back was against the sofa, but she was almost on top of him, as well as in front. He had the arm that was under him holding onto her, and the other hand was still exploring. His fingertip trailed along her collarbone, to her neck, to her hair, up and down the arch of her back, over her beautiful bottom, and back up. He stroked her hair, and then rimmed his finger around her ear. Then he forced her head back down to his to kiss her again. His tongue played with hers. She moved on top of him, and he felt a jolt to his groin. He was about to burst from want of this woman. Was that love? Yes, and more.

As he continued to kiss her, his hand gently exploring, he decided he liked taking this part of their courtship slow. He said, "I know one thing I love about you. I love that you trust me."

She laughed, took his hand in hers, held it and said, "I don't trust you. Trust and Draco Malfoy can't go in the same sentence." She kissed his thumb, then put his hand over their heads and kissed his lips. She settled between his legs. He bent the knee that was next to the sofa back to accommodate her. He knew she could feel how much he wanted to make love to her. And he knew that she really did trust him, or she wouldn't be there with him, on top of him, or even in the same room with him.

He laughed and sighed, "Well now, I know I have no lack of trust in you, and I suspect you really do trust me, although you'd rather tell a fabrication, dear, and pretend that you don't. You trust me, you idiot." He pushed her head down to his and licked around her lips before he kissed her again. He also did it so she couldn't tell him off for calling her an idiot, though she was acting like one.

He moved so that she was completely on her back and he loomed over her. Somehow he had maneuvered her gown off her shoulders. He'd removed his shirt, and unbuckled his trousers somehow, too. She hadn't even noticed. Boy, he was good.

His hand went down to her chest, right above the gown. He kissed the swell of her breasts, and his hand began to pull the fabric down. Before he exposed her breasts he said, "I love your body. Is that a point in my favour, or yours?"

"I didn't know we were keeping track of points," she laughed. She pushed his head up from her chest and said, "Truthfully, Draco, tell me if this is really love."

"Merlin, Granger," he laughed openly. "Only you would ask something like that at a time like this! Only you would want to analyze every little thing and try to discover the key ingredients of the core meaning of love. Love isn't like that, you daft, silly thing. I don't know what to tell you. It doesn't have a description or a meaning because it's different for everyone and it means something different to everyone. Why are we talking this to death? Do you want the dictionary definition of love? Because I don't know it, I only know the way I feel!"

She scowled and pushed at his chest and said, "This is important to me! I have to know! I have to! I can't make another mistake! It would make me a laughingstock, but more than that, it would kill me inside!"

"What do you expect from me, Granger?" he asked. "Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I started out this day, locked my goddaughter in a bathroom, broke your foot, tried to poison you, had a bloody fabulous dinner with you, and then endured a strange but somewhat wonderful banquet just to end it with this knot in my stomach? Do you think I wanted to fall this hard, this fast? Hell, I've never been in love before either, but I'm not an imbecile, and neither are you. I know what love is when I feel it. Maybe I know it because I've never felt it before, and that's how I recognize it. That's how I'm sure.

"I can't tell you how you can tell if you love me. Frankly, I'm not sure I care now. You're ruining this night for me." He sat back up, beside her, and began to button up his shirt.

She reached over and stilled his hands. "I don't know what I'm expected to do or feel," she said quickly, "but I think you've finally made a valid argument. Just the fact that neither of us recognize the feelings we're feeling right now probably means that it's right and it's going to last and we're in love. At least, that's what I'm going to tell myself so that I'll shut up long enough so we can make love."

He grinned, (actually it was more like one of his famous smirks) and then he placed his mouth over hers, and kissed her long and hard. His hand went to the bodice of her gown and pulled it down slowly, almost playfully, so he could look upon bare skin, bare breasts. He touched one breast with the back of his hand, along the outside, and then up and around the same breast, down the middle of her sternum. She closed her eyes and sighed. Her body was warm and soft, so soft.

He knew it would be. His lips followed the trail of his hand, up and around, never going to the tip. She wrapped both arms frantically around his shoulders. She gripped him so hard that he thought she was going to hurt him.

Lifting his head, he moved his hand slowly down her stomach and back up, to finally cup one bare breast completely. He lowered his head to the other one. He kissed the tip softly, quickly. She responded by arching her back and moaning. It dawned on him that he had an undeniable urge to tell her exactly how beautiful she was and how much he loved her.

Hermione was rigid with eagerness. She felt his nervousness, as well as his desire. She almost felt as if this might be wrong, but then something, bright and strong, flashed into her brain. Draco had said that he loved her. She had never felt this way for anyone else in her life. This wasn't wrong. This was right.

The more he kissed and whispered to her, the more peaceful she became. He pushed her dress completely down to her hips. He was only in his boxers. Again, she had no clue how he did all of this without her noticing, but she didn't care. He moved partially on top of her, his thigh between her legs. She was so engrossed that she couldn't form any sort of remonstration, even if a valid argument presented itself to her.

He was breathing so hard she thought there was something wrong. She cupped his face. He looked at her, and then kissed her resolutely and at great length on the mouth again. He tried to calm himself down by that kiss, but instead he was filled with an even greater want and desire.

He kissed her stomach and then looked up at her, held her stare, and removed her gown over her hips, letting it slip gracefully from his fingers to the floor. The last barrier, their underwear, was all that was between them. He gave her a slight nod. He lifted up on one elbow to remove his shorts and she arched her hips to do the same with her knickers, and that was it. There they were.

Oddly enough, he stood up at that time, though he didn't stand to undress, since he was already nude. He stood to get a better look at her. His fingers moved lightly across her body, starting at her toes, going across her long legs, to her hips, her flat stomach, her ample bosom, but he stopped at her cheek. There, he leaned down and kissed her again.

He took a cleansing breath before he placed his body back down on hers. He pulled her into his arms, and she wrapped her arms around his waist. Her bare breasts were soft against his body. He whispered in her ear, "We are in love."

He paid extreme attention to every part of her body. He paid homage to each arm, knee, thigh, hip, breast, neck – her lips, face, shoulders and even her hands. Each kiss and stroke of his tongue shot waves of extreme desire to her brain and every nerve ending of her body. She never thought making love could be so much better when a person was in love.

She trembled and shook, her hands roaming around his body. She wanted to show him that she loved him as much as he loved her, so she eased out from under him (not an easy task) and pushed him onto his back on the couch. At first he seemed taken aback, but when she crawled on top of him and began to kiss and worship his body with divine reverence, the same that he had shown to her, he almost wanted to laugh. Instead, he smiled and delighted in her attention.

She was driving him mad, which might have been her intent, and he couldn't take much more, so he turned them back over so he was once again on top of her. She smiled when his hand went down her face, to her neck and shoulder, stopping for a moment at her breast. He repeated, "We are in love, Sweetheart."

"I think we are," she agreed. "After only a day, we're in love." His hand traveled lower and he kissed her as he began to move his hand. They were both too far gone to think or talk after that point.

She cried out as a climax started to rack her body. She arched her back and hips off the couch as his hand remained in place, his mouth at her breasts, dragging his tongue across the nipple, then sucking on it. She wasn't sure she wanted him to continue, because the bliss she felt was neighboring on pain.

But she decided to let go. She decided to feel. She decided to stop thinking, to stop letting her mind rule her body. She didn't want to live by clocks, and rules, and regulations anymore. She didn't want to live up to everyone's expectations or anticipations. Her hips lifted again as she began another wave of desire.

At that moment there was no such thing as time. There was only him and her and them together.

Floating on a sea of buoyancy, with an assortment of colours suspended all around her brain, bursting into stars that made up luminous and brilliant heavenly bodies, which only the heavens could encounter, he entered her, moved inside her, shattered around her, and she knew THIS was the embodiment of ecstasy. This was being in love. Pure love. True love. In love.

Before he jumped from the brink of rapture, he said once more a very simple phrase. He said, "I love you," and she felt that it was the most perfect thing to say, at the most perfect time, and possibly the best way to end a day, as the clock on his mantle chimed twelve times to denote midnight.

And before the twelfth chime filled the air around them, she held him tightly in her arms and confirmed, "I love you, too."

~*~ It's Time for this story to End! ~*~

* * *

_*Thanks to AlexisRose for her beta skills and for helping me put things in perspective. Thanks to DHLane for all her help with my other stories. Thanks to Linda for helping me with my original story. It's back on track and I've written two chapters for it this week._

_I'm asking for everyone to send out their positive thoughts to me right now. I don't want to say why, just please do. Thanks!_


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